


Taking One For The Team

by Axolotl7



Series: May Moments  - one shots and missing scenes [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, BAMF Melinda May, Bondage, Dom Phil Coulson, Dom/sub, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Phil's Ties, Sex Pollen, Sub Melinda May, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threesome - F/M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 59,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4348633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axolotl7/pseuds/Axolotl7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melinda May will always protect her team – even if that means helping them out with some bizarre Asgardian date rape drug!</p><p> </p><p>Sif said that collaring Lorelei would stop her speaking. She didn’t say that the curse would end… </p><p>Missing scene for Yes Men</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow in the back of her mind she just knew it was going to come down to that. Call it a sixth sense or premonition or what have you but the moment Sif had mentioned in the briefing that Lorelei could control men because of their inherent differences she just knew that it would end up with sex being the answer.

May

 

She’s going to kill Coulson!

It’s the first thought that hits her as she wakes with a pounding headache and glares at the familiar hexagonal tiled walls in the too harsh light. 

She’s locked in the Cage of her own damned plane!

It’s immediately apparent that she’s not alone – Simmons and Skye are on the single small cot talking quietly and Sif is slumped against the same wall as herself. It’s also immediately apparent that something has gone wrong with their plan to collar Lorelei and take back the Bus.

From what little she can recall, she’s guessing the thing that went wrong is Coulson. 

Oh, she’s gonna make him suffer for this.

Just wait.

 

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Her head really hurts. They should really see if they can get FitzSimmons to redesign it into a non-hangover version given the number of times these icers are being used against them…

“Agent May?” Simmons is asking her in a quiet voice, finally noticing she’s awake as she levers herself to sit back against the cool Cage wall. It’s almost soothing to lean her head back against that cold but she can’t indulge, they need a plan to get out of this.

“Sit-rep,” she orders Simmons. She needs to know where they stand. She can ignore the pounding in her head so long as she can focus on making a plan, on getting them out of here, taking back her plane and giving Coulson the crack upside the head he deserves. Honestly! Shooting her in the head? She would _never_ shoot him in the head!

“Erm...,” Simmons starts and her hesitation only reminds her how she hates working ops with scientists! They’re never able to give her the concise field report she needs. They need to start sending these babies though basic Operations training before they’re let out in the field. Or at least before they’re let out with her!

“Well...” Skye jumps in to the gap left by Simmons’ hesitation, the two glancing at each other nervously as though delivering more bad news to her is likely to get them killed. The way her head feels right now it just might. No, not really - she has more restraint than that even if her head is about to explode. Her murderous intentions are to be saved for Coulson.

She waits them out until they both start babbling answer in a rushed garble that possibly only makes sense because she’s used to working with incredibly bad comms:

“Coulson came to the med bay.”  
“I tried to render him unconscious with the fire extinguisher.”  
“It was a really good try.”  
“Thank you.”  
“But he caught it.”  
“He did.”  
“He was like really fast.”  
“Then he marched us up here despite my expressly telling him that Skye should not be moving about when she’s so recently recovered from surgery.”  
“I’m okay.”  
“You’re recovering from gunshot wounds to the gut which bisected at least two-”  
“I’m okay now though.”  
“That’s beside the point, you shouldn’t even be-”

She’s got to interrupt. The gnomes in her head hammering for ore demand that the babbling flow of inanities cease.

“So, Coulson brought you here, he shot me (their terrified expressions clue her into the power of the glare she’s probably sporting right now) and I presume someone also shot Sif?” she summarises. That Sif is still slumped unconscious against the same blank wall she herself is sitting is indication that either Sif was taken out after herself or that she was hit with more than one icer round.

“Yep.” “Yes.”

She sighs letting her head fall back against the cool of the wall, hoping it will sooth some of the ache that is punishing her full force after the twins garbelled babbling, and lets her eyes fall closed to limit the glare of the overhead lights. There’s nothing to be done until Sif awakens. There’s no point trying to plan until they have the full facts and she’s likely to need Sif’s help executing whatever plan they do come up with. Skye’s in no condition to fight and Simmons is hardly combat material. So, she’ll take this time to rest, to reassess, to let the dragon stomping about her head angrily looking for stolen treasure hopefully be placated by her not moving.

She remembers fighting Ward, remembers him pulling the trigger in her face fully intent upon killing her. Remembers the look of surprise when she showed him the cartridge she’d already ejected before crashing it into his face. 

She remembers hearing footsteps off to one side as she scrambled to take advantage of his being momentarily stunned. Remembers spinning in alarm to face the potential new threat.

She doesn’t remember feeling the bullet hit her but she does remember that it’s Coulson’s usually laughing eyes that are looking at her down the barrel. They’re not laughing when he shoots her.

They’re not going to be laughing when she shoots him back!

 

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The sound of a low moan and armour scraping against itself clues her into Sif’s awakening. She gives her a moment to take in their circumstances, knows herself that being shot with an icer takes the mind a little time to come around. Sif struggles to right herself, echoing her own position sitting up against the Cage wall. There’s little point in standing and the cot bed is currently occupied by a sprawled out Skye with a tensely perching Simmons sitting as watchdog keeping her in place. Dr Simmons is a far more difficult creature to get past than Agent Simmons.

“We’re assuming that Coulson shot you before you could get the collar on Lorelei,” she says quietly when it appears that Sif is alert enough to converse.

“I succeeded in collaring Lorelei,” Sif replies though her expression is strained as though even speaking hurts her head. She knows the feeling. “Then the Son of Coul betrayed me.” There’s anger in that last and a little hurt. Maybe she’ll let Sif shoot him too.

Nah.

“We are probably being monitored through the plane’s cameras and video feed but it shouldn’t pick up low conversations,” she advises them all quickly before shuffling her bum across the floor so that she can speak quietly with Sif to come up with a plan. “If you collared Lorelei then why was Coulson still affected?” she asks in a whisper, hoping that Sif will temper her usually booming voice in echo of her, but the astonished expression that Sif is wearing makes her wonder whether she’s misread the situation.

“Your men will not be free of the enchantment simply because Lorelei cannot speak. The collar simply ensures that she cannot enchant or re-enchant any of them,” Sif explains and she’s immediately running her thoughts through all of their previous conversations on this trying to see if she’s missed something but it appears she and the others have simply assumed that collaring Lorelei would end whatever control she has over their male team mates.

“Then how do we end this?” she asks, she needs all the facts if she’s to come up with a plan that will succeed. She can bet that Coulson will be making his own plans to counter any of their plays. It’s a damned nuisance that he’s on the other side of this one. She’s nowhere near his level at planning the ops, it’s what made them such a good team – she trusted him to do the planning, he trusted her to get it done.

Now she’s on her own... well, she’s got a sword wielding Asgardian who would probably like to bash things, a scientist non-combatant whose superpower appears to be babbling until heads explode, and Skye who is recovering from very nearly deadly gunshot wounds. It’s hardly a crack team. She’s definitely on her own as far as planning goes.

“Your men will be themselves once again when the infection is purged,” Sif states as though such a thing should be obvious. She’s pleased that the insufficient answer is at least delivered in a whisper. She opens her eyes, braving the glare of the lights, to look in askance at Sif. She’s no intention of playing twenty questions with the Asgardian.

“They must reach completion. They must purge the infection by purging themselves of the effects of her desire,” Sif explains and again it’s an insufficient explanation. She’s about to level another questioning glare when the thought comes unbidden to her mind... completion... purging desire... oh God! It had better not be what she is thinking...

“Sex?” she asks Sif almost hesitantly. 

“Ah good, mentioning such things is not taboo on your world,” Sif whispers back, immediately smiling widely. “Yes. Sex.”

Somehow in the back of her mind she just knew it was going to come down to that. Call it a sixth sense or premonition or what have you but the moment Sif had mentioned in the briefing that Lorelei could control men because of their inherent differences she just knew that it would end up with sex being the answer.

It seems to come up (pun unintended!) more and more often in recent years. When she began at the agency the term ‘sex pollen incident’ hadn’t even been coined. Now it seems to even be obtaining its own shorthand. 

She has a momentary thought that she could just icer the lot of them, fly the plane back to the Hub or the Triskelian or somewhere and leave it for someone else to deal with. Someone like Romanoff. She was practically made for these kind of problems! Okay, that was unfair of her. Tasha didn’t deserve that and yes, it probably would end up falling to Tasha to deal with them and yes, she’d do it. It did make her wonder though if Tasha sorted these kind of problems because no one else wanted to volunteer to deal with them.

But it’s a fleeting thought - she can’t expose her team to the Shield gossip network by flying them back to a base. These delicate matters are dealt with by team mates, in complete confidentiality, with no mention made in reports thereafter. It’s an unwritten Shield rule that, knowing Maria, is probably actually written down somewhere just in case she wants to refer to it formally in an argument sometime! 

It’s their team so it’s their problem.

It’s not the first time she’s been caught in a sex pollen incident, hell it’s not even the second, and she much prefers being the unaffected party if she’s honest about it. All that grunting and grinding totally out of control is very much outside of her comfort zone. She’d much rather be aware, be in control of her own reactions. From Sif’s previous descriptions, hopefully their team mates will remain enough in control of themselves that this can be a simple, if embarrassing, task. The embarrassment afterwards will fade eventually. The important thing is to get the men sorted. 

 

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They need a plan. 

Three hostile team members, three of them. Simple mathematics. 

 

She’ll take Coulson.

That’s not really up for discussion in her mind - she’s not going to let anyone else give him a helping hand in these circumstances. And no, it’s not because she’s slept with him before and really wouldn’t mind a repeat. It’s not that she’s been deliberately avoiding sleeping with him since she joined this team because she can’t afford to become compromised when her orders are to watch him. It’s not that she’d really really just like one more go, just to see if they’re still just that explosive together, just once... and that this gives her a perfectly justifiable excuse. No, it’s not that. 

It’s obviously because he’s their team leader and it would be very awkward for him to find out later that he’s been helped in such an intimate way by a subordinate, a much younger subordinate her mind quickly clarifies. The awkwardness would be extreme for him and for... whoever. It’s better for everyone that she takes Coulson. That’s not up for discussion.

 

Skye can handle Ward. 

He’s her SO. He’s disciplined enough that he should still maintain some control over his own mind, should be able to control himself, be able to hold himself back so that he doesn’t cause any damage… 

But then again he was willing to kill her just minutes ago.

No, Skye can’t take Ward. She’s still recovering from a gut shot and probably shouldn’t be moving from that bed at all. In fact Skye is definitely out of this op entirely.

So, Simmons can take Ward. 

They have a pretty good relationship it seems... although if Ward does try anything... well Simmons might struggle to handle him.

And Ward’s… weapon… is capable of causing far too much damage even without him trying. She’s used to it. She can accommodate him with a little time and preparation. She’s also more chance of being able to take him down long enough to end up on top, let her control things. 

Skye and Simmons definitely can’t take Ward. 

She’ll take on Ward after Coulson.

 

Simmons gets Fitz though. 

They’re pretty much joined at the hip anyway. She’s pretty certain that they’re not sleeping together but they are close enough that a short embarrassment shouldn’t impact negatively on either of them.

 

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She motions to Simmons and Skye with a nod of her head that the two of them should move across to be part of the discussion. Long story short – she and Sif end up moving to sit on the bed with them because Simmons refuses to let Skye get out of the bed, move around or sit on the floor and its easier simply to move than argue with Dr Simmons (a far more determined creature than the usually willing to follow orders Agent Simmons).

“We have a sex pollen incident on our hands. Standard Shield protocol is that we handle such incidents internally for the benefit of everyone involved,” she explains the plan quietly, ignoring the wide eyed looks from the two junior agents and Skye’s repeating soundlessly ‘sex pollen incident’ as though the concept is completely beyond her.

“Look,” she starts and waits until Simmons is actually looking at her, “everything is kept confidential. There will be no reports made, all video footage will be deleted irretrievably and such incident is never to be referred to again even between team mates. Trust me: this is not the first incident I’ve been involved in.” 

“Really?” says Skye, suddenly overly interested “Was it with the Black Widow because WOW that would be like totally hot…” she seems to realise that the glare levelled at her is increasing in intensity to almost epic proportions and trails off. “Right, you don’t talk about it. Sorry,” Skye tells the bed not meeting her eyes.

 

“I’ll take Coulson-” she starts but is interrupted immediately by Skye. 

“You wanna bang the man in charge, Agent May?” 

She struggles to remind herself that Skye uses humour as a defence mechanism, that it’s just covering her discomfort. She manages not to dignify it with an answer but can’t quite hold back the glare (ignoring Skye’s “I’m just saying”) before continuing: “I’ll take Coulson because he and I have a history. It’ll be less awkward.” Neither of them objects. That’s good – she didn’t care for objections.

“Also, Ward and I have been sleeping together,” she says bluntly (she ignores Skye’s “Seriously? You’re banging everyone?”), “so after Coulson, I’ll head up to the cockpit and deal with him.”

“So, just to clarify there are three of them and three of us but you’re getting AC _and_ Ward?” Skye says both eyebrows making a break for it up her forehead.

“Yes.” She doesn’t particularly feel the need to elaborate. No one needs to know about Ward’s… weapon and she’s not accepting challenges for Phil. “Skye, you’re out due to injury. Simmons, you help Fitz.” 

“No! No, I mean, Fitz is great but no. He’s like a brother, a younger much more nerdy brother to me. I couldn’t. No. Just no,” Simmons babbles back at her nervously.

“Simmons, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to Shield operatives,” she tries to quietly reassure Simmons but the girl won’t meet her eyes. She sighs, she’s not going to force anyone in to something like this but she had thought that Simmons would at least step up to help with Fitz. These are their team mates after all, they’re supposed to protect one another. She’d give her life to save one of them. It is disappointing that Simmons won’t even assist them in this minor way. The embarrassment won’t kill her.

 

She sighs, turning to the only other viable alternative. “Sif, would you-” 

“I do not dare risk your men so I am afraid. Your men will be most aggressive in their pursuit and I may well harm them without meaning to do so if they pursued me too… vigorously.” Sif explains with a smile. It makes little sense and is far too convenient an excuse but she’s not about to call the woman out over it. It was probably a bad idea anyway – their team mates will be embarrassed enough as it is that they have been… violated by friends attempting to cure them, it would not be right to hand this task to a stranger.

She turns back to the other two hopefully. “If Fitz has a girlfriend… or a boyfriend then we can icer him and transport him until they are available…?” she asks but the two are shaking their heads before she’s anywhere close to finishing her question.

“Then you are the closest to him Simmons. I’m sure he’d be much more comfortable if you assisted him in this than if I did.”

“I not so sure he would, Agent May,” Simmons says quietly.

“She’s a virgin,” Skye blurts out not altogether quietly and Simmons astounded “Skye!” makes clear that it’s true.

She sighs. “I’m not saying you have to sleep with him! Just… give him a helping hand or something,” she tells them. This is really getting quite ridiculous. It’s just going to be embarrassing. It’s not like helping the others out is going to be dangerous. Wait…

“When you say that they could be aggressive in their pursuit, what did you mean?” she turns to ask Sif. It’s a concern that’s only really coming to the forefront of her mind now that she sees Simmons’ terrified expression.

Sif smiles slightly to herself as though reminiscing before answering. “They will be wild. They will react like as beasts, as hunters seeking a mate. It can be _most_ satisfying... but may leave one bruised for days.”

If the men are, as Sif says, likely to be agressively overly amorous then she can’t risk Simmons, can’t in good conscience sacrifice the virgin just to save herself some embarrassment. 

 

Why did it always end up being her taking one for the team?

“Fine. I’ll take Fitz too.”


	2. Coulson's First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m not an idiot, May. I know you’re just saying that so that I let you out, then you’ll kick my ass and hunt down Lorelei!”_

So, her plan is straight forward – get out of the Cage, deal with their team, let Sif out to deal with Lorelei.

Now she just needs one of them to open the Cage so that she can put her plan into action.

Seduction is really not her strong suit. 

She wishes Romanoff were here. 

Actually, if she’s wishing for things then she wishes that dealing with Lorelei had been tasked to another Shield team. And that they’d been sent on vacation instead. Somewhere hot. 

That’d be nice.

But no, she’s stuck in the Cage on her own damned plane whilst their team mates fly about doing the wishes of an Asgardian succubus. 

There’s no polite way to describe how badly the situation stinks.

 

She assumes that there’s someone monitoring the Cage’s video feed. She’s guessing Coulson or Fitz as Ward will most likely be flying the plane. She stands up and walks directly over to the semi-spherical camera that is forged into the Cage wall.

“Phil, are you watching this feed?” she tries calling to the camera. 

There’s a moment of silence on the line before Phil’s crackling answer comes over the speakers. “No?” it’s phrased as a question and so obviously Phil’s sense of humour that her lips twitch in an attempt to let a smile escape. She’s pleased that she’s facing the camera so her fellow captives can see only the back of her head. 

“I need you to open the door,” she tries first.

“I can’t do that May, Lorelei wouldn’t like that,” Phil’s distorted voice replies.

“Lorelei said that it’s ok,” she tries next. Skye’s snort laugh from behind her confirms just how poor an attempt that probably was but it sounded alright in her head.

“I’ll check with Lorelei,” he says and she can hear a slight shuffling she thinks of him getting to his feet.

“Wait, Phil!” she doesn’t need him running off to Lorelei or to Ward! She hurries on just in case he’s not waiting “Let me out so we can have sex.” What? It’s seductive. Kind of. 

She’s never been one for messing around with words.

And now Skye is definitely laughing at her. Sif is definitely grinning at her. Hell, even Simmons has a slightly smiling blush as she stares holes through the floor. She manages to ignore the snickers behind her – just barely. She’ll kill them all later. She might need them soon.

The laughter from Coulson over the speakers however is a matter she is forced to deal with.

“Don’t laugh at me, Phil,” she threatens despite knowing that he’s unlikely to take any of her threats of bodily harm too seriously. He knows she has a soft spot for him. He relies upon it far far too much! She still owes him for the headache currently chipping away at her brain.

“I’m not an idiot, May. I don’t care if you promise we’ll fuck ‘til we see stars (the ‘again’ seems to be added only in her mind). I know you’re just saying that so that I let you out, then you’ll kick my ass and hunt down Lorelei!” he replies when he’s finally stopped laughing at her.

She sighs. This she hadn’t anticipated as the most difficult part of the plan. Where was the animalistic Coulson that Sif had been talking about? The one wild and out of control? Seems like Sif underestimates the control Coulson has over his baser emotions. It’s a disappointment and not just because it makes getting out of the Cage more difficult.

She thinks for a moment about telling him. It’d certainly be far easier to give them all the help they need if everyone was working towards common goals. But it’s too big a risk she decides. If he knows that this is a pollen incident then it could go one of two ways - either he'll go along with it protesting that he's not under the influence or he'll refuse, prioritising whatever addiction to Lorelei that has been created over becoming cured. It’s not worth the risk. Provided that she can convince him to let her out then she can deal with the situation.

“It’s not a trick, Phil. I thought you could tell when I’m lying?” she challenges him, steps in closer to the camera so that it’ll focus on her face alone. “I’m not lying,” she states convincingly. She’s not. In this instance she does actually need to fuck him. She’s no intention of hunting down Lorelei – that’ll be Sif’s job once she’s dealt with Phil.

Unfortunately, Phil has a pretty good understanding of exactly how she manipulates words to enable her to tell a misleading truth. “I don’t know May… you’re pretty good at telling a truth only you understands… you probably just mean you want to fuck me over or something similarly unpleasant…” he hedging but he’s nearly convinced, she can tell from his tone even over the speaker distortion.

Sighs. Time for the big guns then. She glares directly at the camera as she says through gritted teeth “I want your cock in my cunt and I want you to fuck me hard until we both come screaming. Unambiguous enough for you?” 

She’s hard pressed to ignore Skye behind her whispering “that’s so scarily sexy. Is anyone else thinking that’s scarily sexy?” but even harder pressed to ignore Sif’s less than quiet “Indeed. I am considering whether your Agent May…” but Coulson is speaking over them both and her attention is drawn back to the more important conversation.

“You only say ‘want’ May. You might well _want_ that and still happily come out and kick my ass because we don’t always get to do what we want,” is Phil’s too clever response.

Argh, damn the man and his ability to talk! She spins around and stalks away from the camera in frustration before she ends up hitting it.

Skye jumps in after a brief argument with Simmons as she pushes herself to sit up in the bed. “Look AC if you wanna fu… if you want to have sex with May then how can she prove it’s not a trick?”

He’s silent… thinking perhaps.

“You do want to fu- have sex with her, don’t you?”

There’s a snort over the speakers echoing her own – that is not a question that needs asking!

“Fine,” Phil says shortly. “Naked and bound.” 

She can almost feel him smirking as he says it. That thwap upside the head is so definitely coming to a head near him soon!

They’re all looking to her to respond: it’s her decision whether she heads out there naked and bound into what could be potentially hostile territory. She’s thinking through her options and whether negotiating the bindings will still result in her getting out of the Cage when he continues: “No answer for me May? Changed your mind about the sex now that you won’t be able to take me out as you’ve planned?” His taunting is getting on her nerves but she’s stuck taking it if she wants out of the Cage and he knows it. “We both know it’s not the bindings you’re objecting to,” he’s far too smug as he imparts that last gem of wisdom.

She doesn’t deny it – it’s true. That the others here are witness to something so private is an annoyance. She deliberately ignores Skye’s “ooooh Kinky” comment, there’s no denying that one either, but it does spur her into action – her colleagues do not need to hear anything else about her sexual preferences from Phil and the longer she’s silent the more likely he is to fill that silence.

“Bound how?” she demands spinning back to level a glare at the camera as her arms cross defensively in front of her.

It takes only a split second for him to respond: “Wrists to elbows behind your back and ankles hobbled.” That’s ridiculous! Bound the way he’s directed she’ll barely be able to walk! If her plan had been to take him out then his plan would certainly counter it. But she can read in his tone that it’s an opening gambit not a final volley.

“Wrists only. Not my legs,” she counters. 

“Want to run away?” is his quick comeback. As if she’d ever run from him!

“Want the option of kicking you if you’re still being stupid,” she retaliates.

“Not that stupid, May,” he says more quietly. It’s true, it would be pretty stupid to leave her legs unbound. He knows how easily she could take him down with kicks alone. He’s never been trained to her level. But she’s not going to accept a hobble easily. If something goes wrong, if her plan ends up out of the window, she needs the ability to move.

She thinks for a minute before smiling at him through the camera. “If my legs are bound then how do I wrap them around your back as you fuck me?”

She can hear his gasp over the speakers quite well enough that he hardly needs to say anything else – she’s won this round. “Fine. Wrists only then but behind your back,” he concedes slightly.

“Fine,” she states and it is - hands behind her back she can cope with. “Restraints?”

“Cable ties,” he’s smug as he demands it. Cable ties... cable ties will hurt. They’ll dig into her skin, painfully if too tight or left on too long, and escaping them will be a near torturous effort. It’s mean. Petty. He won’t hold to it.

“Rope,” she counters. It’ll be easier, both on the skin of her wrists and to slip out of later. 

“Handcuffs,” he comes back with. Harsher than the rope but much easier to slip out of than the cable ties. They’ll be hell on her wrists if she fights them but she’s control enough over her own reactions not to pull against them. Moderately painful to get out of but simplistic and certainly an advantage time wise.

“Extended handcuffs,” he clarifies. Damn! Make that nigh on impossible to get out of without assistance or injury. Where with normal cuffs she can twist a wrist or pop a thumb out of joint to slip one of the cuffs leaving her hands free, the extended design cuffs have a twisting bar between the two cuffs approx a foot in length that prevents anyone reaching one hand to the other and therefore stops any prisoner being able to manipulate their own hands to enable escape. No one she knew of could slip them without bashing a hand into a wall to break it clumsily or trapping a wrist somewhere to dislocate it. It wasn't the cleanest way to try to escape but if the need were there then she'd use it. There'd be plenty of opportunity around the plane to crush her hand if it became necessary. And this was Colson after all. It was unlikely to become necessary. 

She really needs out of this Cage. Sooner rather than later. They can’t afford for Ward to get them to wherever they’re headed.

“Agreed,” she tells him shortly. She hates feeling like she's lost an argument even if it is getting her out of the damned Cage. She sighs lightly as she approaches the camera. “You win, Phil. You want me naked and bound, you got it. I suggest you get up here to open the door...” she lets the suggestion hang a little as she unzips and peels off the leather jacket, throwing it casually to a corner. “You don’t get up here soon, maybe I’ll decide to fuck someone else!” 

It’s a threat she knows she has little intention of carrying out but she hates feeling like she lost an argument. Now, even if she’s technically conceding to his demands, she’s at least had the last word!

“You do that May. Your choices appear limited but are VERY interesting. I can’t say there’s a bad choice in there but maybe you should try them all just to compare? I'll happily stay right here and watch, help u take notes, maybe record the video so we can watch it back together later and decide...”

 

She’s going to kill Coulson.

 

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She strips down quickly, methodically. This is not a strip tease. It’s a tactical requirement to getting out of the Cage and executing the plan. Her being naked isn’t a problem. 

She’s almost convinced herself.

The two girls are looking away giving her a modicum of privacy but it appears Sif has no such restraint as she gazes openly smiling. It doesn’t matter, she tells herself. This is the plan.

That Simmons wants to say something is written all over her face so when she’s done stripping she faces them, hands on hips, she’s no intention of pretending that she’s anything other than their superior officer dressed or not. “Out with it,” she instructs. 

Simmons takes a deep breath seemingly working herself up to speaking, before saying: “Agent May, I am really quite uncomfortable about us sending you out there bound a... and naked. I mean you’ll be pretty much defenceless and if what Sif says about the men being violent is correct then you could be in danger. I mean what if he… well if he…”

“What if he fucks me, Agent Simmons?” she says quite clearly. They all know that’s the plan, well giving him a hand job was plan A but well if she’s _got_ to fuck Coulson then she’ll take one for the team. Oh yes, will she!

Simmons is blushing and looking at the floor unable to meet her eyes once again and yeah she feels a little guilty. The girl is very young. It’s probably the first time she’s come across anything like a sex pollen incident.

“It’s just a biological process, Simmons. Agent Coulson and I have been involved in such things previous to this and it will not be an issue moving forwards after this. Now, you should all move back against the end wall because he’s going to want everyone in sight at a distance before he physically opens the door.”

“Thanks May,” comes Phil’s voice over the door speaker, indicating that he has finally made it up to their level of the plane.

She hears the clunk of the lock disengaging sounds and the door slides apart with a hiss of air. 

An icer through the crack in the doorway is the first thing she notes, that it’s held by steady hands, Coulson’s steady hands are the second and third. She moves out into his sightline standing before him but completely at ease. This is her plan and she will follow it through. 

His other hand tosses the handcuffs behind her. It’s either pettiness or tactical - she’s forced to move further away from the door. “Stay back there please until you’re properly bound,” he instructs calm as ever. Sensibly cautious. Typical Coulson!

She moves away, clipping one cuff onto her left wrist tightly enough that it’ll pass inspection.  
She summons Simmons to assist her binding the other behind her back. She has to instruct her to tighten them further. Twice. It’s no use trying to leave them loose to give her the advantage, Coulson knows well enough to check before letting her out.

“Let me see,” he orders and she spins so that he can see the bindings are tight enough on her wrists. They are. She knew he’d check. More importantly she knew he’d order them tighter anyway before he let her out. She loses nothing by co-operating right now, hopes it will set him more at ease.

“Good,” he says after looking them over in detail, stepping back from the doorway and gesturing her through ahead of him with the icer.

She follows his orders, heads out in front of him slowly like a good little prisoner. She hears the lock engage behind her. It’s probably safer to leave them locked up until she’s dealt with him anyway.

She starts walking, heads for Coulson’s bunk seeking privacy more for his sake than her own. As they pass through the bar area though he calls her to a halt. 

"Let's go to your quarters... or mine," she suggests as she turns slowly to face him. She doesn't intend to let him fuck her in the middle of the plane where just anyone could wander in and catch them. At least not this time. Not when there's a chance it could be Ward or Lorelei that finds them whilst she's bound... there is no way that would end well.

"No. Here." his words are short. Adamant. The brevity in particular very much unlike the Phil Coulson she knows.

"You're not fucking me on the floor like a dog, Phil," she tells him. It's one thing to help out a friend in need, quite another to lose all perspective about it when she's not the one suffering the effects of Lorelei's mind control.

"Here. Now."

"No."

 

He's suddenly coming at her, the icer seemingly forgotten dropping to the floor as he charges. Her instincts immediately have her matching his aggression with her own. She's never been one to back down from a fight. She places her feet deliberately in balance, positioning for the spinning kick that she knows she can land to his head despite her bindings and the suddenness of his sudden assault. She might not be able to land in balance after the kick but she'll be able to recover more swiftly than he will if she hits him hard enough. She just manages to get her brain in gear to stop herself reacting to his charge in time.

This is Phil. 

Alright so he's a more aggressive Phil but he's subject to Asgardian pretty much sex pollen and she's just said the one thing you _do not say_ to anyone under the influence of pollen ever - she's just said no to sex with him even if she didn't quite mean it the way he's taken it. It's a stupid rookie mistake. One she needs to correct. Quickly.

She relaxes her stance minutely and raises her head to make her throat an easier target for his outthrust hand in the seconds it takes for these thoughts to pass through her mind and him to reach her. The palm to her throat will bruise she thinks objectively as fingers grasp around her neck solidifying his hold as she's propelled backwards at speed her feet dancing swiftly to keep underneath her until she's slammed into the plane’s bulkhead. She deliberately relaxes her body, lets him hold her there with his hand to her throat.

She knows he won't kill her... 

She studies him whilst he waits silently, taking in his flushed, sweating state. The cockeyed tie. The strangely ruffled hair that’s almost cute in the way it currently sticks up in odd places despite being close cropped. His eyes. Oh. His eyes are blown wide with arousal, pupils dilated so that they appear almost black. His intent gaze is still playing across her body, appraising her, assessing. The air around them is cool, that’s her excuse for the shiver that runs down her body. The way his eyes flick up, honing in on her own suddenly is primal. She begins to suspect a little of that wildness Sif described is inside Coulson. He’s a predator held motionless but ready to pounce as they stare across at each other. He’s looking at her like she’s either supper or... she’s not going to go there.

She _hopes_ he won't kill her... 

No, she knows it. Knows that irrespective of whatever his hormones and Asgardian mind control might say, underneath it all he's still Phil... why else would he still be wearing his suit jacket at a time like this?

Even as her mind reasons it her breath is coming fast, adrenaline from instinctual fight or flight reaction. It’s far faster than she’d like. She needs to take back control of the situation. “I want to have sex with you, Phil,” she forces out in a whisper past his bruising fingers and almost immediately his grip relaxes to let her speak more easily. “I want you to fuck me,” she tells him, looking deep into those wild eyes to try to convince him she's telling the truth. He's always been able to tell before, she hopes he can now. "I just don't want to have sex here..."

“Ashamed to be seen with me?” he snarls into her face, eyes boring into her own. “Don’t want Ward to catch you with me? Are you still fucking him, May? You say you want me to fuck you now, suddenly out of the blue? Now, after months of avoiding me? What’s wrong, May, Ward not doing it for you anymore?” that he’s angry is obvious as he steps in even closer to her, his body almost flush with her own, the harsh heavy fabric of his suit jacket brushing against her breasts. She almost flinches backwards instinctively at the aggression but makes herself hold her place, there’s not much room to move back any further and she refuses to retreat before him. It’s only Phil. Even angry Phil is no danger to her.

She hopes.

She has a momentary thought to dodge out of his grip as he switches from grasping at her throat to pressing his forearm against her windpipe. It’s an easier hold given how close he is now. She can feel his breath across her face as he speaks from only inches away. Peppermint – it’s bizarre that he’s taken time to freshen his breath... and so very very Phil!

The fact that he’s now at least making complete sentences again is a relief even if the accusations he’s hurling are accurately striking targets far more cruelly than his fists could ever do.

“Clarify this for me then, May, because I am tired of your games. Make up your damned mind whether we are fucking or you’re fucking Ward!” He’s probably got a point - she has been messing him around but it’s not like he makes out. She’s simply been keeping her distance since joining this team. She can’t afford the additional complexities of getting involved with him again, not whilst she’s ordered to watch him. She can’t be compromised and do her duty.

But that isn’t now. This isn’t her getting involved. She can keep this one incident separate in her mind. Can still go back to Ward after this. This doesn’t have to mean anything. This is just one team mate helping out another in a sex pollen incident. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that. She breathes in deeply, calming herself in the face of his anger.

“Phil,” she says calmly trying to project her own calm on to him as she reassures: “This isn’t a game (it never has been, not to her). I promise. So why don’t we deal with The Captain (no one is permitted to laugh at the fact that Coulson calls his cock that! You should have seen his face when Cap made it out of the ice!) and then we can talk.” 

The sound that erupts from his mouth is animalistic – a frustrated groan and possessive growl combined. His eyes are bold upon her own, ratcheting up the tension between the two of them. He leans forwards, pressing his forearm harder upon her windpipe, restricting her air in a subtle threat. She raises her head slightly, bares her throat further to him in a subconscious acknowledgement of her submission as she lets out a slight hiss of pain. He leans into her face as though to kiss her and she finds her eyes dropping of their own accord to his lips. Her tongue darts out to wet her own lips in anticipation but he’s turning his head at the last second, ghosting his cheek against her own as he speaks directly to her ear, breath tickling the sensitive lobe.

“I hope he walks in whilst I'm fucking you,” he whispers, his tone no less harsh for all that it’s conveyed as a whisper. “I'm going to have you in every way,” he threatens. Or maybe it’s a promise. She can’t decide as she feels herself growing aroused. “I'm going to touch every part of you that he's touched. I’m going to claim all of you and mark you as mine so that if you _ever_ let him fuck you again he'll know who you really belong to.”

“You’re mine,” he declares.

She feels a flood of wetness at the statement. 

Possessive Coulson is such a turn on!

He backs off slightly when she doesn’t raise any argument, lets up the pressure on her throat as she gulps. Yeah, that’ll bruise. 

His eyes are no longer drilling into her own and he breath of space between them allows the tension between them to lower even if it’s only slightly. She can finally take a deep breath. His eyes roam her body and he may as well be touching her with his hands as she can feel the heat of his gaze. She can feel her nipples tightening at that insubstantial touch. He licks his lips almost unconsciously. She knows exactly how talented that tongue, those lips, hell! that mouth can be and after his declarations she wants nothing more than for him to carry out his ‘threats.’ 

His eyes drop further, focus on the juncture of her thighs sending a shiver down her spine. 

She needs to keep control of this – this isn’t some fun filled frolic in the hay, this is business. Simply helping out a team mate. She just needs to get him to relax so that she can give him that helping hand. It doesn’t need to go any farther than that. Even if she’d quite like it to.

 

She breaks the spell they seem to be caught in by speaking. “Why don’t you unbind me and let me help you with that?” she suggests keeping her tone calmly moderated so as not to set him off again. She stops as his lips curl up into a dangerous smirk. She hesitates. Others may see the suit but she knows him well: she knows not to underestimate him.

“Yes or No, May?” is all he asks her but he should already know there’s no way she can ever say no to him. That choice left her years ago. It’s one of the reasons, the main reason, she slept with Ward – it stopped him from asking what she couldn’t refuse.

“Yes,” she breathes out.

 

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It’s apparently all he’s been waiting for as he’s suddenly moving again, spinning her by her arms around him before driving her forwards, flinging her into the bar off balance. She’s winded by the force of it unable to catch herself, stunned by the fact that he’s flung her and the force he’s brought to bear. 

He’s not wasting any time now. As she leans against the bar relearning how to breathe he is already moving, grabbing her hips and propelling her up and forwards over the bar. She’s momentarily airborne but unable to break her fall with her arms tied behind her. He lands her heavily, pelvis across the bar, with her legs straining to touch a floor she knows is well out of reach. Bereft of the ability to properly balance herself in place she knows that she’s stuck in this position as long as he wants her there. It’s that or take the risk of injuring herself falling forwards. Her back already aches uncomfortably from the strain of holding her stomach muscles tense to keep her head up but she’s no real time to contemplate that as Phil is not idle behind her.

He’s pushing her legs apart, positioning himself comfortably in between as his hands grab firming at her hips, fingers digging in with desperation that she knows will leave bruises, but at least she’s more stable. 

She can feel his hardness against her then and knows he’s undone his trousers at some point whilst she’s been distracted trying to avoid tumbling over the bar onto her head! He hesitates on the periphery only for a moment, growling “Mine” under his breath, before he’s powering forwards into her, spearing her deep with no care for whether she’s ready for him. She isn’t!

She bites off the scream that escapes her at the sharp pain of his forceful entry.

Her muscles flutter against him, trying desperately to cope with the intrusion. He holds still giving her time to adjust – she’s uncertain whether it’s a sign that Phil is still in control somewhere inside there or whether it’s simply the overwhelming sensations as her muscles clench down upon his cock beyond her control.

She gasps for breath, head hanging low over the side of the bar with her hair completely obscuring her vision of anything except a few feet of floor. Despite the bruising he’s causing, it’s fortunate he’s maintaining his grip on her hips because he’s the only thing holding her in place over the bar just now.

He leans down over her back, trapping her arms at her sides as she feels the cool steel of the handcuffs against her lower back, to nuzzle at her hair. He pulls one hand from her hips, leaving her momentarily worried about falling, to catch fingers in her hair, brushing it over her left shoulder as she turns her head obligingly so that he can whisper into her ear.

“Mine,” he repeats softly nuzzling at her ear. Just in case she’s missed his point. It’s possessive. Animalistic. It’s downright arousing but she can’t be letting him get away with it that easily. A part of her rebels at the thought of just lying here taking it without a fight.

 

“A little warning would have been nice,” she snarks back at him once she’s enough breath in her lungs to actually respond.

It takes him a minute or so to answer her. “I said ‘mine’,” is his almost jovial answer and it’s so very Phil that she’s tempted to smile at him despite the situation. That he’s suddenly so much more present, so much more himself and less aggressive animal means that she can relax a little more. She doesn’t need to worry quite so much now that he seems more in control. She wonders whether he’s more himself because he’s finally inside her or whether it’s because she hasn’t rejected him again. Whether maybe the Ward thing has been eating away at him more than she had thought.

“Hardly a warning,” she banters with him. She’d rather they kept this light. Just one team mate helping out another.

“Hmm... you’re probably right,” he concedes lightly and she knows from his wry tone that there’s more coming. “It was more of a declaration... of ownership.” 

She snorts a half laugh at his musing even as it ramps up the tension in her chest.

“Oh I know you like to think nobody ever owns you,” he continues calmly, still holding himself in place inside her giving her time to adjust. “I know you submit as and when you like. But let's look at right now - right now you’re trapped, bound and completely defenceless with my cock in your cunt.” He thrusts shallowly, a mere inch or so dragging her protesting muscles with him and she restricts the cry that wants to escape to a forceful exhalation. “I could do anything I want to you right now... Anything at all... And you wouldn't have any say in it,” he continues, standing back up right as though preparing to start fucking her whether she’s ready or not.

“Oh, I think I’d have quite a lot to say about it,” she spits back at him uncomfortable with just how aroused she’s getting at the picture his words are painting.

He’s leaning back away from her and she watches him through one eye as he loosens his tie, slipping the loop over his head before undoing it, tying a knot near the centre for which there can be only one real reason. He says nothing as he holds either side of the knot, pressing it against her lips. She tries moving her head to avoid it in silent rejection but he simply holds her head in place pressing his fists against her cheeks until she stills. She refuses to open her mouth, refuses to be gagged as well as handcuffed and fucked over the bar where anyone might walk in on them.

He doesn’t push it. Just waits her out. He’ll be waiting a while, she promises herself. She’s far more patience than he’s ever shown. She wins their silent show down as he speaks again, a quiet threat: “Or I could just fuck your ass, I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunity to gag you then as you start screaming. There’ll probably be some whimpering. Maybe some crying...” he lets his threat trail off.

Fine. He wins. She opens her mouth to let him gag her, it's the best of bad options. And it'll help her stay quiet if he really is about to fuck her hard. It wouldn't do for one of the others to hear her, come investigating and find her so bound. This is not something she wants to share. Phil is a special case.

He ties the tie behind her head, tight enough that it pulls gently at the corners of her mouth but not so tight that she couldn’t push it out of her mouth with her tongue if she had a mind to do so. It’s a concession that is just so Phil that she lets it stay in place. If he really wants her gagged then she’s really no objection and it will help with the inevitable screaming. His gentle hands pull her hair out from under the silk tie so that is doesn’t catch. He’s always considerate, even when he's being a bastard!

Once she’s arranged to his satisfaction he leans down over her again, his clothed front to her bare back, to mouth at her neck. He knows how sensitive her neck is, how much she likes when he kisses her there... maybe nibbles a bit... or bites!  
But it’s a little early for that sort of rough play and he’s restricting himself, keeps to kisses, little licks and sucks.

She can feel her muscles giving as he stays still to give her chance to accept him, stretching to make room for him. He always fits her so well. 

She’s little doubt that if she doesn’t relax he’ll take her anyway, a little pain has never come between them and it’s always repaid in pleasure many times over. Her arms held in place at her sides by the extended cuffs trapped between the two of them just remind her that she’s bound, make her feel trapped, helpless before him. His comments and the thoughts that rotate through her mind send a rush of wetness flowing around his cock seated inside her. “You’re mine,” he declares again in between kisses, seemingly pleased by her responsiveness. She’s always been responsive to him.

“So small, so helpless, tied here at my mercy,” he croons to her. He knows exactly what turns her on, what gets her hot, makes her wet for him and he exploits it mercilessly. “I could do anything to you now. Anything I want. And you just don’t get a choice.”

She knows that’s not true. She chose this. It’s all part of the plan. Her plan. But still, the slight frisson of awareness that if she told him to stop he might not, not whilst he’s controlled by this Asgardian pheromone thing, that slight worry… that’s exciting her even more than the dirty talk or the bindings. He really could do anything to her right now.

She lets out a whimper at the thought without meaning to.

“Whimpering already, May. You must be more desperate for a fuck than I thought. Hasn’t Ward been fucking you right?” it’s a low blow, an indication of just how much her fucking Ward has bothered him. It’s bothered her too but it’s necessary. And Ward’s not half bad. He’s just not… not… ok so he’s just not Phil! There, happy now?

She doesn’t respond verbally. She doesn’t need to, her body already betrays her. 

Then he moves, only a few inches back, his cock retreating from her, dragging at her inner walls and forcing another whimper she cannot hold back. He’s pushing back with a groan, steadily forcing her muscles to give way under his assault and it’s so much better.

He fits inside her like no one else ever has, fills her fully, stretching her in just the right way without being too much. Ahhh she’s missed this, missed him!

 

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She thinks her mind and body are turning into mush.

It’s not a particularly evocative description but it’s all her mind seems able to consciously think right now.

She’s suspended over the bar counter precariously held in place by his grip on her hips as he slams into her in an almost brutal pace now that her muscles have stopped complaining and started enjoying. She’d like to be able to move, be able to push back against that driving hardness but she’s trapped pretty much useless by the fact that she can’t reach the floor or anything to push against. She might as well be an inflatable sex doll strung up over the bar, a convenient hole for him to rut against. It’s not a flattering thought.

He’s still fully dressed from the waist up, she can feel the heavy fabric of his suit jacket that he’s still not removed scraping softly at the sides of her ass, can feel the softness of his shirt ghosting over her lower back with his every movement. It’s so incredibly him that it couldn’t possibly be anyone else. But damn it, she wants to see him, wants to know absolutely that its him pounding into her relentlessly, that its him stealing her breath, making her moan, making her want to beg.

On every forceful thrust in he’s hammering against that glorious bundle of nerves, brushing past to plunder deep inside her before dragging back, scraping across it again as he pulls almost all the way out. Then he’s hammering into it again, slipping deep. Oh! It’s fan-fucking-tastic!

Her whole being is concentrated down to that small part of her body. Nothing else really seems to matter as the tension in her stomach intensifies.

 

All that matters is that he keeps… doing… that! 

Sparks of pleasure are shooting up from her adding to the coiling pressure in her lower abdomen. Magnifying. Escalating. She’s building up to an enormous explosion despite the fact that he’s not yet touched any other part of her.

Her breath is coming in panting gasps, irregular, uncontrolled. She feels hot all over, can feel her hair sticking to her, sweat slicked. But all she can concentrate on is the feeling of him hard and hot inside her. Driving into her. Relentless. 

Simply seeking his own pleasure with her body. It’s that thought that tips her over, eyes screwed tight shut as her mind is flung into a maelstrom of colours and feelings that she has little concept of whilst her body bows tightly back, muscles tensed, locked save for her spasming pussy clenching tightly, rhythmically around him.

 

He holds in place to ride out her climax but before she’s consciously come down he’s hammering into her again. Driving her upwards once more. Intensifying the sensations as her quivering muscles flutter against him and he forces his way through them, forces her body to yield to him. He catapults her up in to the clouds again within minutes, her mind scattered somewhere amongst the stars.

She can’t catch her breath.

It’s too much.

Too much and not enough all at the same time.

 

She’s slipping back and forth across the counter now, sweat slicked, as his hands work in concert with his hips, dragging her back to meet his thrusts even harder. Her swollen sex so sensitive that it balances her finely on that cusp between pain and pleasure. He’s angling her body down, thrusting up more than across, letting her own weight force her down onto his cock harder. Her feet can almost reach the floor as he lets her drop. Forcing his cock a fraction deeper and she’s screaming around the makeshift gag as he bottoms out, hammering against her cervix. She’s moaning with every thrust. Whimpering as he leaves her. She doesn’t know which way is up or down. She’s no concept of… anything of import. 

It’s too much. Far too much. 

Her body is certainly not within her control when he flings her into her third orgasm of the evening, no less powerful for all that she is exhausted.

 

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But she’s starting to ache from the constant attention. It’s beginning to hurt when he scrapes across her overly sensitive tissues. He’s wearing her raw with the constant jackknifing. 

It’s the slight pain that manages to bring her consciously back to reason. There’s a niggling thought at the back of her mind that flashes before her – they’re not supposed to be doing this. It lets her focus a little through the haze of pleasure, rise above the mass of sensation her body has become even if only momentarily. He’s compromised. She’s supposed to be getting him to come. And they’re on the clock. Someone could interfere at any minute. Especially if they’ve heard her abrupt screams that she’s little doubt are escaping even with the aid of the makeshift gag.

 

He’s been at this a while, has driven her to three climaxes but seems no closer to coming himself. That doesn’t bode well. Sif had said that they’d be vigorous… had warned that she’d be bruised. She hadn’t appreciated that it was her pussy that would end up bruised! She needs to end this now, before she’s actually hurting.

She needs a new plan.

And painkillers.

The position he’s manoeuvred her into for his own reason gives her more options. She can push backwards off the bar now, maybe take him to the ground, use him as a cushion for her own landing. She waits for him to pull almost all the way out, can’t do it and moans as he slides forwards deep into her again. She needs to pull herself together. This is not simply an enjoyable round of sex. This is a mission to help out a friend. She flings them over backwards after he next exits her, lands heavily upon him as he crashes to the floor. It works better than she hopes - he’s aided in tripping by the trousers hastily shoved down only to his ankles. He’s winded, slightly stunned and groaning probably in pain from the rest of her landing on him. It gives her the time she needs to roll, scoop up the dropped icer in a hand behind her back, aim side on and shoot him with it. 

She breathes out a sigh of relief as he slumps back to the ground, letting her own forehead hit the floor as her body complains at her. 

That was amazing. And oh so totally worth it. 

Even if it wasn’t the plan.

 

It can’t happen again though. Even if she knows realistically that it needs to at least the once more so that he’s free of Lorelei’s mind control. But after that, it doesn’t happen again. She may wish this didn’t have to be a onetime thing but she can’t take the risk. She’s here for a reason – to watch him - she can’t afford to have her judgement compromised when the stakes are so high. She must keep as much distance as she can personally and that certainly includes NOT sleeping with him however good the sex between them always is. This will simply be… a blip. An unintentional, necessary blip to help heal him from this infection. That it’s likely to be the most mind blowing sex of her life is neither here nor there.

There’s no time to just lie here though, she’s a job to do, a plan to carry out. She rolls around embarrassingly uncoordinated as she forces her arms to stretch underneath her, dragging her wrists to be bound in front of her, far more useful than behind her back. She forces herself back to unsteady feet. Her pussy clenches against nothing, empty, reminding her that she was building up to another fantastic climax before she interrupted them. Ahhh there is nothing quite like sex with Phil Coulson. She sighs – it comes out far more dreamy that she likes.

This is why she slept with Ward! This is exactly why. Because she and Phil are just that good together. Because he is just that good, just that addictive to her mind and her body. If she stumbles, she will fall entirely off the wagon. If he so much as looks at her the wrong way they’ll be in a bed in no time… or against a wall… on the floor… Lola… 

It’s not that she has no self-control it’s just that it’s Phil and he seems to completely confuse her thoughts with stupid jokes so that one minute she’s laughing (internally) at him and the very next her brain is telling her how cute he looks and then her thoughts turn to just how the rest of him looks and then her mind is replaying him in various stages of undress… under her… over her… above her as she kneels...

So. Ward. That’s why she slept with him. Is still sleeping with him. Only not so much with the sleeping really. She’s having sex with Ward because then she won’t end up having sex with Phil. It’s really as simple as that. Sure, she’s using Ward but she’s made it clear that’s what this is, there are no hidden agendas. It’s just sex.

She getting laid well enough that her hormones should be easier to control and now that Phil knows she’s sleeping with Ward he’s less likely to try to have sex with her… not that he’d have to try. 

And she can’t say that sex with Ward is anything like a hardship. Slightly too much sometimes and not exactly how she likes it but it’s not Ward’s fault that he’s not Phil. Had she not the comparator he’d probably be excellent. She’s just been blessed to know excellent. 

To know several excellents in fact... 

Maybe even a fantastic... 

One fantastic. 

 

 

… It’s not who you're thinking of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Coulson will get another turn! ;)
> 
> Comments and kudos make me write faster...


	3. Fitz' turn

She knew it would hurt to try to slip the handcuffs.

Knew it and yet still underestimated quite how much it would hurt to try to pull her wrist through the harsh metal in the hopes that she might avoid having to actually break her hand against something to escape. She’s steadied the metal separator against a corner of the countertop, hooking it under the overlapping corner to give her something strong to pull against. The metal of the cuffs scrape and drag against her skin, digging into her hands as she tries again, teeth grit against the pain as her eyes water for an inordinately long count of three before she releases the pressure, relaxes taking a gasping breath. It’s not going to work. They’re too bloody tight.

Damn Coulson! 

She knew she should have kicked him in the head when she had the chance!

She could kick him now as he lays unconscious on the floor next to her but it wouldn’t really generate the same satisfaction.

She sits back down, resting for a few moments, simply exhaling deeply after the exertion before reminding herself that she is on the clock. It’s now or never. She hates having to cause injury to herself. It somehow hurts even worse than if someone else causes it. At least then she can look forward to getting revenge.

Why did she argue so strongly against the cable ties? At least with cable ties there was the possibility of finding a knife and slicing her way out even if they’d hurt more in the interim. But now she’s stuck with no ability to escape without taking the risk of breaking her hand badly using unpredictable brute force! Coulson’s an idiot of the highest degree for insisting on this!

Oh. Wait. That… that doesn’t really sound much like the Phil Coulson she knows and lo- the Phil Coulson she knows. Period.

The ever practical and safety conscience Coulson won’t have risked her safety by binding her without a way to release her in a hurry just in case. 

The Coulson she knows will have kept the keys on his person or nearby where he could reach in a hurry.

She kneels over him to rifle through his jacket pockets awkwardly with one hand whilst the other is dragged along for the ride at that set distance. She smiles as her assessment of his conscientiousness is proved correct, the electronic key fished out in her hand and laid upon his chest to enable her to press the cuffs to it, unlocking them with an immediate snap. She can’t avoid the instinctive need to rub at her newly freed wrists even though they are unmarked. She almost rises to leave, intent upon releasing Sif to hunt down Lorelei, but turns back and quickly tidies Phil up, refastening his trousers which just barely fit over his engorged cock, his arousal seemingly unhindered by the dendrotoxin that has sent the rest of him to sleep.

 

She doesn’t particularly want to go back to the rest of girls looking like she’s just been fucked sideways but she’s little option. She’s not particularly concerned about being naked but she’d have liked to have the time to clean the juices from her thighs. Still, it’s not as though they don’t know what she was coming out here to do.

And it’s not like they were volunteering to help!

 

She inputs the code to the electronic lock on the Cage, letting the door swing open towards her before announcing her presence. Sif is the first to her and not for the first time she thinks how bloody unfairly tall Sif is as she cranes her neck back to look up at her. It doesn’t help that she’s lost her boots, she likes the additional few inches that the heels give her. Barefoot she feels tiny. “Coulson’s down but not cured. I’m heading down to the lab in the hopes of finding Fitz next. I assume Ward is in the cockpit. Haven’t seen him or Lorelei yet,” she reports to them as though completely unaware of her present state.

“You are unharmed?” Sif asks her concerned.

“Just a few bruises,” she confirms in answer to both Sif and the two agents behind her giving her very worried looks.

Sif nods accepting it at face value. “I will locate Lorelei,” Sif declares and she steps aside to allow her to pass. She hands the icer to Skye with a nod, she’s unlikely to need it.

“Simmons,” she starts. She’s just going to say it matter of fact, she decides. There’s nothing that she should be embarrassed about. She is simply helping her team mates. “I need water based lubricant, a topical analgesic and pain killers. Where in the lab will I find them?” She follows it up with a glare when the two youngsters exchange raised eyebrow-ed stunned faces. A blushing Simmons directs her accordingly but doesn’t meet her eyes. Skye’s raised eyebrows and smirking face directed at her is enough that she’s glad she doesn’t give her opportunity to comment, making a hasty retreat and relocking the door for their own protection. From the both their compromised team mates and from herself if Skye lets any of the comments she’s thinking escape her mouth!

She creeps around the door of the medical bay, hoping not to run into either of the others until she’s had chance to properly prepare. It’s blessedly empty. 

She quickly locates the things she needs, props a leg up against one of the benches and applies everything accordingly, stretching herself a little more open with her fingers. She puts her leg back down to the ground but quickly thinks better of it and repositions herself so that she can reach back to her ass, lubricating and stretching there too. If they’re all wild then she’s going to need the option available rather than let them completely destroy her pussy. It’s practical. She stretches herself probably far more than she needs. _Hopefully_ far more than she needs, she corrects.

 

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She finds Fitz in the common area, kneeling over Coulson checking his pulse. 

She can’t afford to let him call for help or go rushing off – she doesn’t want to be trying to fight Ward again until she’s got the others free from compulsion.

She sashays forwards in her best impression of Romanoff on the pull. 

She probably doesn’t pull it off. 

 

His eyes flick up to her quickly as he clocks her presence. 

“Agent May?” he asked almost hesitantly, looking very briefly at her and then quickly turning his head away and stepping backwards, retreating from her. “You’re...” He takes another few steps, fumbling with his hands, evidence of his nervousness if his stumbling words are not enough. “You’re.... you’re.... that is... you’re not dressed,” he concludes with a finger pointed almost accusingly at her even as he can’t seem to meet her gaze.

She moves in closer before he can flee. “I’m naked Fitz,” she tells him as he continues to mumble, eyes flashing up to catch a glimpse before hurriedly flying back down again to consider the carpet several times. “You can look Fitz,” she declares in almost frustration but he’s still mumbling backing away as she approaches and taking only those brief peeks at what she’s offering.

“Fitz. Stop,” she tells him, stopping her own progress towards him briefly in the hopes that he’ll stop retreating until she can get him more interested in coming than in running away to Lorelei or anyone else. She’s pleased when the tone of command has him obeying, almost fearful eyes darting up to her own in panic.

“I’m naked because we’re going to have sex,” she tells him bluntly. 

His fish impression is endearing but not exactly the overwhelming aggressive passion she needs from him right now. He’s stunned enough in place that she feels safe advancing again. His eyes are blown, pupils dilated with arousal so strong they look almost black.

He’s aroused but seems unwilling to make the first move despite her being completely naked offering herself to him. He’s nervous. It’s almost sweet. Under other circumstances… but these are not other circumstances. She has a job to do.

Talking never works for her but doing... doing she can do!

She pushes him gently backwards onto the couch behind him, sitting herself swiftly astride him before he can make any move to flee. He’s looking determinedly anywhere but at her, his hands hovering in the air above her shoulders like they don’t know where to rest. She has to actually catch his jaw to re-direct his attention back to herself. Then she’s kissing him, pressing firmly against surprised soft lips and his hands suddenly know exactly what to do, spanning across her waist and pulling her hard against him so that she can feel his cock through his rough trousers. 

She rocks against him in the hopes that grinding alone will be enough to force him over the edge. It’ll be far less embarrassing for him tomorrow if she doesn’t actually see anything, if she doesn’t actually fondle him, doesn’t actually fuck him at all.

His tongue is far more talented that she’d have guessed - slipping into her mouth on a gasp, teasing her, tempting her tongue into play, slick and warm and wet and oh so good as they gasp against each other. He commands the kiss and she lets him, lets his tongue push deep, exploring every inch of her moist flesh, all the hot crevices, stroking and playing and teasing and driving her slowly insane. She takes it all back! She loves scientists! They’re so methodically thorough in everything. They can come on missions with her whenever they like (pun intended!). She’s almost entirely forgotten the plan as he plays with her.

Her hips continue to ride up against his hardness unchecked, the fabric of his jeans dragging roughly against her clit every few thrusts. It sends sparks of pleasure shooting to her brain unexpected. She’s never come from just grinding against someone before but she’s certainly headed that way as pleasure coils low in her body. She has a moment of worrying whether Lorelei’s drug has infected them all but in different ways before she’s distracted entirely from the thought when he pushes her away with a low growl, dumping her unceremoniously off his lap to land on her ass on the floor with legs akimbo. 

“What the hell was that for?” she demands, more than a little cross to have been so quickly turfed onto her ass. He’s paying little attention to her though as he strips trousers, pants and shoes off, tossing them away into a corner. There goes the plan to keep his modesty intact.

She leaps to her feet, stepping forwards into him as he turns back to her. He’s just the right height she thinks as she stands slightly on tip toe to press her lips back to his. She sends a hand questing down to grasp his cock in a gentle grip, swallowing his gasp when she does so. He’s frozen immovable as she starts to move, fingers dancing across him in a teasingly too soft caress. She wishes now that she’d brought the lubricant upstairs with her – it was a lapse in thought to leave it in the lab. If the drug does increase their control, their stamina then a hand job is going to wear him raw before he comes.

She sighs against his unmoving lips as she presses another chaste kiss against them. 

In for a penny…

She lets herself sink down to her knees, a hand on his hip using him for balance. She chances a glance up, his completely stunned expression is endearing, before parting his shirt tails out of her way to get a look at what she holds in her hand. His cock is perfect. Long, slim, elegant with a comparably large head that would almost certainly feel amazing inside her. Her pussy clenches in automatic response to the thought. Not yet, she thinks. If head is all he needs then that’s what they’ll keep it to. Just one team mate helping out another.

Still, she can’t resist teasing him a little.

This may be assistance between team mates but that’s no reason for him to leave without appreciating her full talents.

 

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“Maybe you should lose the shirt,” she tells him and after a moment of stunned silence her comment seems to register as his fingers are fumbling at small buttons in his haste to comply. She can feel the smile on her face at his eagerness. She’s feeling pretty eager herself!

It’s been years since she was able to take her time giving someone a blow job. The men she seemed to hook up with fell into two main categories: those who wanted her on her knees because they saw it as an issue of control, which she refused to give them, and those for whom she happily knelt that took the control from her but who then kept the control throughout, directing her in every little thing which took away all the fun of exploring. Okay so it gave fun in other ways to have a man fucking her throat, holding her hair in complete control of her… okay, lots of fun. But still, it was nice every once in a while to get to take her time, get to explore the textures and taste, get to tease a little…

As soon as the shirt goes flying she looks up again to meet his gaze – hungry is the first word that hits her to describe his expression. Tormented might be the second. She smiles up at him, keeping eye contact as she leans her head forwards, towards the hand in which she still holds his hard cock, holding it steady for her to play with. She licks her lips to wet them, catches the quick flick of his eyes dropping to follow its movement across her lips before flying back up to her own almost embarrassed.

She can smell the scent of him - basic, earthy, pure male strength. She can’t help but breathe him in deeply. She can almost taste the salt of his skin. She breaths out, ghosting hot breath across the head of his cock and drawing a whimper like sound from his throat.

The sounds he makes almost are small and cute, little moans and whimpers he’s clearly trying his best to hold in. He doesn’t yet know it’s futile, she’ll be drawing far more than cut off moans and tiny whimpers from him before she’s done.

His hands are fisted tightly, almost pinned to his sides to stop himself reaching out to her.

A small milky droplet of pre-cum is gathering at his tip.

She’s so close that she could reach her tongue out and taste it.

And oh how she wants to taste him, wants to collect up that tiny drop, swirl it round her mouth then go back to lick at the salt of his skin a chaser to the main drink. She meets his heated gaze deliberately, flickering her tongue out to catch that little drop in a single slow swipe across his head. She moans at the taste, eyes falling shut notwithstanding her intentions to maintain eye contact and hears his stuttered gasp above her as his legs sway. 

Sway worringly! 

She looses her grip on his cock to grab at his thighs and hold him stable. He seems to come to the same conclusion as he steps backwards unsteadily to collapse onto the couch, before pushing himself forward to sit on the edge of it with his legs spread to make room for her. She scoots across on her hands and knees following him the few strides distance until she’s kneeling between his legs, at a far better angle to torment him.

His hands seem to fall naturally upon her shoulders as he sits still as a statue, the easy byplay in passion lost at the interruption.

Well, she’ll just have to get him back there then! She steadies him with her right hand, bending her head over him to lick across the broad head with a flat sweeping tongue. She leans her head over to one side, tosses her hair over behind her so that he can have an uninterrupted view as she starts at the base, just above where her fingers sit, a delicate press of wet lips, the merest hint of a kiss. Moves up a fraction of an inch to place a second caress of lips. And repeats.

Strangled sounds are coming from his throat between gasps as she teases him and she can’t help but grin. It’s far too much fun to play with him like this. So few others would stand for it but he’s happy enough to let her have her way despite the probably almost unbearable need he’s experiencing. His hands raise from his sides a few times only for him to consciously force them back down to avoid grabbing at her head and directing her as she progresses with sweet little kisses up to the tip.

When she drops back down to start again at the base of him only slightly further round he finally breaks whispering “May, please…” through gritted teeth. It’s enough she decides as she looks up to appreciate the tension in his face. She gives him a last long lick from base to tip where she’d intended to litter with kisses before swallowing the head of him into her hot wet mouth without further notice. It’s almost a girlish scream that leaves him when she sucks on just the head of his cock but it’s very definitely a manly groan of satisfaction that she hears when she lowers herself to take him in deeper.

She cups her other hand around his soft balls, stroking the wrinkled skin with gentle fingers and chuckles around him at the gasping groan her actions elicit.

She plays her tongue along the underside, tracing the vein from start to finish, flicks it at the patch just below the head making him jump and writhe and shout. 

She intends to drive him crazy like this, feel his balls convulse under her squeezing fingers, taste the evidence of his desire as he floods her mouth with his come. 

She pulls back off him with an audible slurp, exposing his wet cock suddenly to the cold air around them and drawing a much louder moan/whimper from his lips. She smiles as she goes to town, working him until he won’t which way’s up or upside down:

A pressure of lips here, the friction of tongue against skin, licking alternating with sucking, feather light kisses, mere tortuous presses of lips against soft skin, taking him inside, hot and wet, suckling, swooping down to take him deeper, heated breath ghosting over his length as he almost screams, then back to tiny barely there kisses, a caress tongue, stroking fingers, firm suction of her lips locked around the entire head of his cock for moments where he twitches and she’s sure he’s about to come. His hands grip almost painfully at her shoulders as his head is thrown back in pleasure. She increases pace, her tongue going into a swirling rapid dance, playing about the head of him, teasing at his slit before rocking forwards into him, taking him deeper, letting him find a rhythm he can work with, allowing him to fuck her mouth, control the pace how he needs to reach that inevitable climax.

 

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He pushes her roughly off him before he can come down her throat and a hand in her hair is pulling, directing her up into his lap as though it’s simply a convenient handle for his use. She resists the pull only slightly, increasing the tension on her scalp with a throaty moan. She loves it when someone pulls her hair, it’s primal, controlling. She follows the direction to kneel astride him once again, this time taking the initiative to steady his cock with one hand before impaling herself slowly, inch by tortuous inch, onto that slick cock. It’s not been long since Phil was inside her and she’s more than prepared to take him but the pressure, the feel of him inside her, stretching her out once again forces another guttural moan to escape her.

It’s just sex. 

Just one team mate helping out another when a blow job just isn’t enough. 

It’s just amazingly spectacular sex.

His hand lets her hair go and settles on her waist, directing her almost immediately to rise up before he frantically slams her back down. She’s more than happy to comply. The touching and teasing has her so worked up that there’s nothing more she needs right now than a frantic fuck to make her see stars.

The plan is well and truly out the window!

 

… And she couldn’t give a shit!


	4. Coulson's Ba-aaack

Head thrown back, arching her back so that he rubs just perfectly inside her, it takes more time than it should for her to realize that there are someone else’s hands upon her, someone else’s teeth tracing the line of her shoulder, nipping painfully before laving the hurt with a skillful tongue. 

She knows as she concentrates that it’s Phil. Ward knows nothing of her erogenous zones despite them sleeping together for months now. Phil knew them almost before she did. He’s always been attentive in everything he does.

But it’s Fitz hands that are cupping her breasts from the underside, lifting them as though weighing them. No, lifting them up to his lips, his head bending down into the space made by throwing her head back to rest on Phil’s shoulder as she allows herself to just be, to just succumb to the pleasure being evoked.

A hot wet mouth closes around her right nipple and she has to admit that she cries out aloud at the sharp pleasure even before he sucks. Rhythmically. Sucking. Oh God! She couldn’t care less about her hips or the cock inside her, right now everything that matters is that mouth, suckling, pulling, oh so… amazingly… as she writhes and moans unable to hold still whilst he plays her like an instrument. Never have her breasts been this sensitive, never has she felt like she could come just from the feel of lips around her, a tongue tracing just over the very tip, batting slightly whilst that all consuming sucking pressure holds her balanced on the knife edge. Her legs are almost shaking with the tension, muscles tense, back bowed as he continues to drive her higher his own pleasure seemingly forgotten as he plays with her.

Then he’s turning her own tricks back on her to spectacular effect, the sudden loss of his mouth wrenching a cry from her throat and the cold air hitting her peaked wet nipple leaving her shivering in uncomfortable pleasure. He dances around where he knows she needs his lips, laying tentative kisses across her breasts, licking little patches of skin he decides are more deserving of attention, following with her as she writhes to try to move her nipple back towards his mouth without conscious thought. Then he dives to the other, slurping and suckling and oh my God does she love scientists!

It’s spectacular! Pure pleasure! Her mind is fogged, dragging as she realizes that she can’t keep up with all of the sensations, can’t concentrate on every nerve ending firing off throughout her body. She’s whimpering, keening almost constantly and she doesn’t care.

Phil’s lips suckling on her neck are just suddenly no longer able to be ignored, sucking hard, hard enough to bruise, pulling a roll of skin into his mouth to hold it hard between sharp teeth. The perceived threat has her instinctively stilling everything but her clenching internal muscles which seem to have awoken in frenzy, fluttering up and down the hard length still seated deeply inside her. Phil lets her skin slide out from between her teeth, dragging until it falls back into place with a relief filled sigh as her body moves once again under her control. The relief if short lived as lips press to the juncture of her collarbone, a split second of warning only before he bites down hard, driving his teeth through her flesh, marking her for all to see as she screams and comes all at once the sensations too powerful to resist. 

 

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She’s instinctively rocking her hips in time with Fitz when she regains some semblance of self, the sloppy friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of them as they each try to drive the other faster, deeper, harder.

The sudden knowledge that Phil’s humping against her ass, his hard cock still slick from her juices, causes her to falter in her rhythm. She needs to change position before he decides he’s finding a hole whether she’s filled or not. She moans at a particularly delightful thrust before making a spur of the moment decision. Her first attempt to rise off Fitz is spectacularly failed not only by the hands quickly upon her shoulders restraining her with far more strength than she’d credited him with but also by the hand that somehow found its way between them to thrum against her clit distracting her wonderfully. 

“Wait, wait,” she’s gasping at the two of them but they either don’t hear her or they’re so far gone that they don’t care. She knows she has to get through to them or take a physical stand if she’s to have any hope of steering this runaway train. “Phil, please. Stop a minute. Let me move so that you can both enjoy me,” she’s trying to explain between breaths but they’re both simply ignoring her. Okay, time for the big guns: “Phil, I want you to come in my mouth.” And those apparently are the magic words as she’s literally torn from Fitz’ lap, the pull as his cock leaves her so rapidly is almost orgasmic in itself and she’s left with muscles clenching in a mini-orgasm before she’s any notion of her hands and knees hitting the ground hard.

Fitz cries out at the sudden loss but she’s given no time to think about him as she’s dragged back and up to her knees by her hair, Phil’s cock bobbing teasingly in front of her face. Alright then.

She reaches up with hands to steady him but they’re slapped away – a little harder than necessary, thanks Phil! She can’t help but glare up at his stupidly smirking face.

“A blow job doesn’t require hands, May,” he says cockily. It makes her think about knocking him to the ground again. It’s a fleeting thought.

She continues to glare at him but he just keeps smirking back.

She can feel a trickle of her own come slowly making its way down her thigh as they stay motionless. A clash of wills she really doesn’t have the time for or the patience. 

She lets out an audible sigh and clasps her right wrist in her left hand behind her back. She continues to glare but Phil knows to take whatever limited concession he gets with her. He moves to close the pace of distance between them, her knees brushing the insides of his ankles as he stands above her. She parts her lips in readiness to accept his cock but he simply brushes the tip against her bottom lip. Smears the taste of his precum and her juices mixed across her lip and retreats away, holding her head firmly in place so that she can’t follow. Her gaze is fixed longingly on his cock until he shakes her head to get her attention. “Eyes on me,” he orders and what can she do but comply.

She watches him as ordered, watches as his eyes fixate on her lips when a tongue peaks out in an oh so slow swipe gathering up the trail of juices before drawing them back into her mouth, sucking with an obscene drawn out moan.

“Fuck, May,” he exhales on a breath. Yep, two can play this teasing game.

Then he doesn’t seem to care where her eyes or hands are as he presses his cock urgently against her lips. She keeps them closed for a brief moment just to mess with him but soon lets him slide inside. She’s not given a choice about anything else as his hips rocket forwards, pushing across her tongue to bump against the back of her throat.

He groans in pleasure above her as she concentrates on overcoming the immediate reaction of her body to the tickle at the back of her throat. She gulps rapidly. Repeatedly.

His hand in her hair holds her in place but he gives her time to get control of herself. There are tears building in her eyes as she presses forwards into him, the pull in the roots of her hair in direct contrast to the push of his cock against her throat as she swallows it down. He rocks forwards into her mouth, sliding deeper into her throat with a sustained groan.

She’s coping, swallowing, breathing compromised as he holds her in place. Her eyes are watering as she looks up at him, meets his hungry gaze with almost a shiver. She’s very nearly getting lightheaded as he forcibly drags her back off him all at once with an oath. She gasps great lungfuls of air back in, collapsing forwards against him and holding onto his thighs for the extra support.

Despite barely catching her breath, she doesn’t refuse him when he pulls her back again, she takes him inside her as he presses forwards into her mouth and swallows him down with only a little difficulty. She lets him hold her steady, lets him have the control he wants over her body. It’s not something new to the two of them. She’ll always trust him. With her body if not her heart.

Twice more he steals her breath, each time it feels for longer than the last, until her eyes are turning heavy and black spots are starting to appear in her vision. 

It’s probably too far. 

It’s just far enough.

She’s balancing on a knife edge, so close to coming again that it’s almost torture not to have anyone touching her as she gasps slumped to one side on the floor whilst Phil does who knows what as he potters around her. 

God she loves him! 

No, it’s just hormones. Just her body telling her that yes, it’s quite enjoy itself right now if she could please just keep going.

 

The casual slap to her arse interrupts her thoughts, thankfully! It can only be him – no one else would dare!

It becomes apparent that he’s been undressing as he kneels before her gloriously naked, a sight she has no reservations in appreciating. “Hands and knees,” he instructs but grabs for her head preventing her from turning around and instead guiding her to swallow him down again. Her ass up on show to the world is not something she likes so she drops down lower, attempting to hide her wet pussy from anyone who passes by. She’s dragged back up off his cock unexpectedly only for him to glare at her, emphasising: “on your hands and knees.” 

It’s an annoyance.

But it’s one she can live with, she decides as he lets go of her hair to let her decide how she wants to suck him. His reason for being so bloody pushy about it becomes apparent as smaller hands find themselves up her hips, a cock bushing up against her slit as though waiting to be invited inside. Fitz. Sweet even in the middle of whatever drug induced arousal he’s experiencing. She spreads her legs further, stretching wide in welcome before rocking back to take just the head of him inside her hot pussy. 

It feels so good that she has to stop for a moment as her mind blanks completely. 

Until she’s pulled back off him by a harsh hand at the back of her head, fisting into her hair as she’s pulled away while Phil’s slightly more breathy voice commands “No. Stay.” 

She's not a fucking dog! She growls lowly at him. She appreciates the irony!

“You’re not in control here, May. I am. Remember?” he continues calmly. 

Yeah, she remembers. She rolls her eyes at him despite the awkward angle trying to look up into his face as he holds her head bent up towards him.

“Roll your eyes at me again if you want a spanking in front of Fitz instead,” he’s laughingly threatening her.

“You wouldn’t,” is all she says. She knows he'd never do that - he'd never try to humiliate her in front of anyone else. She trusts him not to.

He lowers his head down to hers to look her dead in the eyes... his are wild, pupils blown almost black, a hint of something not quite sane around the edges. Something that causes her to momentarily doubt her faith in him at that precise moment in time. “I'm sure Fitz would just love to see how you cry and beg when I spank you hard,” he threatens barely above a whisper. Fitz won’t have heard. It’s just a threat. He's just playing it far more serious than they previously have. He's just... showing off to Fitz maybe. Maybe just... just reasserting his dominance after her leaving him for Ward. Whatever the reason, it’s apparent that now is not the time to be challenging him.

She breaks their gaze, casting her eyes down submissively even as he restrains her head in place by the pull of her hair. "Yes, sir," she whispers trying to communicate her apology for pushing him away, for forcing him to see her with Ward, for ... for the betrayal he knows nothing about. Can NOT be allowed to know about. She's pleased she's not given a chance to think further down that train of thought as he growls lowly, pushing her head back down to his cock and orders Fitz to fuck her hard.

"but sir, shouldn't I..."

"Just fuck her Fitz," he orders above her head.

"I... I'm really not sure..." Fitz is hedging but she's not really concerned what it’s over, she's quite happy just letting Phil deal with everything. He wants the control, he can have it. She's had quite enough of trying to stick her plan. His plans are usually far better anyway.

She’ll just concentrate on doing. She’s far better at that anyway she thinks as she sucks at Phil’s cock, ignoring all that’s going on above her head. She's pulled up again from his cock far before she was ready to let go, it leaving her mouth with a wet pop from the suction and a low groan from above her. Her hair is far too convenient a handle for him today she thinks as she ends up being dragged up again to meet Phil's eyes. "Tell Fitz you want him to fuck you," Phil orders before tossing her back from him. 

She turns to look at Fitz, all hungry and eager and adoring... like a playful puppy who just doesn't know if he's allowed to play. She smiles at him and finds it’s genuine. Even in the midst of whatever Asgardian sex pollen high he's still mainly Fitz - sweet, concerned adorable Fitz. 

She spins on her knees to face him fully, bending her head to try to meet the eyes he's cast to the floor in embarrassment. "Hey, hey," she tries softly to get him to look at her but he's drawing away from her, seems about to leave. She stops him with a hand on his shoulder. She daren't aim for anywhere else in case it actually convinces him to flee. "Fitz, look at me. _Look_ at me," she emphasises and eventually his eyes trail up to meet her own hesitantly. "Fitz, this is all consensual. This is all my idea," she’s speaking slowly, trying to get him to understand through the haze of pleasure they're all very quickly coming down from.

"You... you...." she lets him try to find the words. She's never been good with words, it'll be far easier if he just spits out whatever's bothering him so that they can get on with it. She waits him out as he falls silent and then it all spurts out of his mouth in an impressive shout backed up with an accusing finger aimed directly over her shoulder she assumes at Phil "HE THREATENED YOU! That's the only reason-"

"No!" she raises her own tone, moving quickly to kneel up hopefully blocking his view of Phil. "No, Fitz. Coulson would never... look at me." She grabs his chin in a firm grip, redirecting his angry eyes back to her own. "He would never do what you're accusing him of. _Never_ " she's emphatic and she stares him down until he seems calmer. 

She is not having Fitz engage in a territorial fight he'd definitely lose! She's no doubt that Fitz would give it a shot even certain that he'd lose if he thought that he was protecting her. She's coming to appreciate that, however much of a genius he might be, his heart will always be bigger than his head. 

"Thank you though. You trying to protect me is really very sweet," she can't help but say. His blush and sudden inability to meet her eyes again is so endearing even in the midst of all of this that she can't help but dip down below his head to find his lips and press a chaste kiss to them. He really is very sweet.

"All sorted, now?" comes Phil's wry voice from behind her. "Because someone is really starting to lose interest with all the talking..." he leads on. 

She's little doubt that 'someone' will be taking sudden interest again almost momentarily but first she needs to check "You ok now?" she asks Fitz, waiting until he nods in response even as he continues to address the floor. "Good," she declares abruptly. It's time they got on with the plan... Phil's plan this time. He's far better at it. She’s the doer. "Because I really need you're cock inside me fucking me so hard that I come screaming around Phil's cock in my mouth… and given that I have been ‘ordered’ to stay still... (she's pleased that he manages a little chuckle at that and to look up to meet her eye roll) you're going to have to do most of the work!" she ends with, spinning in place to wiggle her ass at him, eliciting another small chuckle as he relaxes again.

"Don't think I missed that eye roll," Phil tells her as he takes possession of her head once more, kissing her far too lightly before guiding her back down to slurp at his cock. "Fitz smack that ass for me then fuck her like the lady requests," he orders above her. She teases Fitz with another wiggle of her ass when the anticipated smack fails to appear, hoping that he'll understand it for the invite it is. The barely there slap is hardly anything but she makes sure to gasp and moan, pushing herself back towards him, encouraging him howsoever she can. The hands on her hips are tentative but the cock pushing into her pussy thankfully isn't as she's forced to consciously stop herself from rocking back against him. He pushes forwards into her so slowly she's feels she could die from the steady pressure building inside of her. It's not enough. She needs more.

She clenches down, hoping to drive him to be more forceful, to push him into a faster rhythm but he's just holding still in place and her hips are no longer under her control as her body moves to push back against him seeking more pleasure. The hand dragging at the roots of her hair trying to hold her still is more than a minor annoyance as the pain stops her in place. She can't beg around the cock in her mouth but if she were free she'd probably try it right now. She'd plead with them to just fucking take her. 

Just fuck her. 

Hard and fast and now! 

Just keep fucking her until she comes and comes and comes. 

Until she can't take it anymore and then maybe some more after that. 

But she can't beg them right now so she settles for whining between the breaths that she can barely catch, hoping that they'll help her. The hand that moves to caress her hair instead of hold her in place confirms that at least one of them is aware of her need as his voice encourages Fitz to fuck her harder, faster... to really make her scream.

Fitz is groaning behind her, echoing her own moans, as he starts them in a rhythm with only one orgasmic end in mind. She can hear the squelch of her own juices as he pistons into her, can feel every ridge of him as he massages her pussy walls, changing angle intentionally every few thrusts to keep her guessing unable to adapt quickly enough to move with him, pressing deep and holding for a few seconds until her hips can do nothing but beg him wordlessly to move again, then restarting and it’s just… so… damn… good… 

A cautious hand questing down from her hips underneath her is very VERY welcome! Fingers drag tentatively through her folds whilst his hips continue to roll into her rhythmically. She twists slightly, arches against him, trying to get those questing fingers where she needs them. When he finally brushes against her clit she stops completely still, a slight squeak escaping her. He’s moved away probably in surprise but his fingers are back before she has chance to catch her breath enough to complain. Sparks of lightening pleasure are flying up her back at every little gentle nudge as those fingers quest. She’s stock still, frozen in place by tight muscles, keening lowly around the cosk inside her mouth, hovering on the edge of something wonderful as he continues to thrust into her. The only part of her that seems at all capable of moving is her cunt as her walls flutter against his cock, intensifying the sensations astronomically. Building her up. Higher. And higher. Until she’s tumbling over that cliff edge, falling without a parachute, head thrown back in indescribable pleasure as he catches her just right.

A hand is guiding her mouth back over his cock, Phil then she surmises as she opens for him almost on autopilot. She holds him in her mouth as she breaths heavily around him, presses against him with a tongue too tired currently to do anymore than suck the head softly. As she becomes a little more aware of her body she realizes that Fitz still hasn’t come as his cock slides in and out of her pussy almost robotically. 

She has the idle thought that maybe they’ll never come, that she could be trapped with them for days. 

Days of endless pleasure whilst the two of them make use of every part of her body seeking their own pleasure.

 

Oh God!

 

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	5. And then Ward joins the party...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Ward fans! Coulson rules!

Fitz’s fingertip scraping against her clit forces her to moan around Phil’s cock in her mouth drawing a similar groan from his throat.

She pushes herself up slightly higher on her elbows to better position herself over him, trying to concentrate through the pleasure Fitz is building up again to try to work Phil properly. Swirling her tongue around the head of his magnificent cock, tickling at the sensitive spot underneath before sucking him inside hot and wet. He’s putty in her hands in moments thrusting shallowly against her but keeping his hands restricted to her shoulders, letting her play a little, even as she knows his restraint won’t last long.

She’s totally focused upon eliciting more of those deliciously sexy groans from Phil that she doesn’t hear Ward stealthily approaching them. The first she knows of him close by is when he forcibly removes Fitz from her, flinging him backwards fortunately landing him against the couch still only a few feet away. She and Phil both stop what they’re doing to assess the situation properly. If Ward is here to attack any of their pack then they’ll be ready to take him down.

Ward doesn’t appear to have any intentions of further hurting Fitz as he unzips his trousers, pulling out his cock and taking it in hand stroking it to further hardness. Her eyes follow that hand intently as he approaches her from behind. Her mouth is suddenly dry and she’s gulping without meaning to show how it affects her. 

This is the part of Ward she definitely more than likes. Oh, she likes that he’s quiet, he doesn’t feel the need to fill a silence. She likes that he’s got her back in the field, that he’s a competent agent. But she _more than likes_ that he’s hung like a horse and can stretch her out so fully that she can often come just from lowering herself onto him, steadily feeling her muscles give way and stretch just to the point where pleasure balances on the edge of becoming pain.

Just the thought of him inside her now, of him stretching her to capacity is stealing her breath, anticipation intensifying every sensation. 

 

She’s almost on the verge of moving when Phil interrupts her thoughts, a deep rumbling growl resonating from his chest, vibrating through him and in turn transmitting the shudder to her. It stops Ward in his tracks immediately, his head coming up, focus drawn away from her to the new threat. 

She sighs audibly. She really doesn’t need a dominance fight between Phil and Ward. Ward has the training. Same training as her apparently. He’s younger. Taller. Physically fitter. Stronger. Faster.

And Phil will kill him if they fight.

 

She knows that without a doubt.

But Ward doesn’t. Ward doesn’t know Coulson like she does. He’s never seen him fight. Never seen him protecting someone else.

She’s running tactical simulations in her head: how best to knock out Ward quickly and efficiently without letting Coulson feel like she’s challenging him by taking Ward down herself. A swipe to the legs seems like the best first step in all of her plans, fighting Ward on a lower level should help Coulson continue to feel superior despite the fact that she’s taking over, and the surprise of the landing should shock Ward at least a little-but it appears her plans are unnecessary...

Phil’s standing and backing away from her… he’s conceding? That is …well very unwelcome actually!

She’s not playing submissive if Ward’s getting to be in charge! No way in any hell!

She stands up quickly as Ward moves in a step closer. If everyone’s standing then she’s not continuing to kneel on the floor like an idiot and it’s a clear way of telegraphing physically that there is no way she’s submitting to Ward even if Phil is giving her up.

Phil glares at her as she moves, The Finger of DoomTM held up as he gives her serious face. “Stay,” he orders but she’s taking it under advisement. If there’s going to be a fight then she’s certainly not staying out of it. Someone needs to make sure both idiots survive.

Ward’s pulling back up his trousers, a tactical imperative if he’s about to fight really, but it’s all the opening Phil needs to reach under the bar counter withdrawing a gun and holding it steady targeted on the surprised looking Ward before she can so much as take two steps closer to stop him firing.

“I told you to stay,” he tells her first with a glare. 

She glares right back. “You can’t kill him.”

“Still got feelings for your precious boy toy have you, May?” he mocks her but his hand remains steadily aiming the gun at Ward who has sensibly frozen in place. It’s only an icer she notes with relief. That makes things easier. His attention moves off her when she fails to respond. 

“Did you enjoy fucking her, Ward?” Phil asks almost amiably.

“If I say ‘yes’ are you going to shoot me?” Ward asks him.

“It’s a risk,” Phil answers. “But if you say ‘no’ then I’m definitely going to shoot you simply on principle.”

“Then ‘yes’ I very much enjoyed fucking her,” Ward responds. His smile is wolfish, challenging as he shifts position only slightly but she knows he’s readying himself to attack despite the gun between them. She moves a step forwards with the intent of reaching Phil, removing the icer from the equation, getting between them if she can. 

“Good. Because it’s never going to happen again,” Phil tells him uncompromising.

“I don’t think you get to make that decision,” Ward says with a flicker of his eyes at her. 

It’s nice somebody’s noticed she’s actually still standing here as they discuss who gets to fuck her! As soon as Phil’s eyes flick across to her Ward is moving and almost before the thought occurs she’s moving too, to intercept him or to grab for Phil’s gun she’s not entirely sure. There’s a blue flash and a thump as Phil shoots him without breaking eye contact with her. He smiles at her, apparently inordinately pleased with himself, as there’s a further flash of light and then nothing. 

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

She assumes that she’s been hit with an icer AGAIN from the incredible pounding in her head. That it was Phil shooting her with it AGAIN just makes him a dead man thrice over.

She keeps her eyes shut gently closed, breathing deep and even as she feigns sleep to assess the situation a little before cluing whoever else is in the room into her consciousness. Her arms are definitely tied above her from the indentations she can feel in the skin of her wrists. Something soft and wide but with hardly any give she determines as she tenses muscles a miniscule amount to test the bindings.

“She’s awake,” Ward’s voice announces from close by. Guess the guy does have some good training in there somewhere after all. Damn it.

She opens her eyes to assess her position more swiftly now that Ward’s given her away. She’s lying face up on the sofa, still in the common area, wrists are bound above her head by... yes, it’s Phil’s silk tie as if she hasn’t encountered that feeling enough in her life that she should have been able to identify it by feel alone earlier. That’s good, she can slip that easily enough. Phil is standing a little ways away, Fitz sitting on the chairs opposite. Neither appear particularly concerned that they’re naked as they hang around. Ward is kneeling almost beside her. Really he should have been the first she looked for as the primary danger but she was more concerned to check the rest of her team had suffered nothing unfortunate during her absence. Ward’s hands are behind him, probably tied given the strain in his shoulders and the fact he is still kneeling when she’d have expected there to be a fight in progress when she awoke.

“Ah good, you’re awake. Ward and I have been talking, May. About your relationship. And I've got to be honest and say I think it's simply not gonna work out between you two,” Phil is talking down to them both, his tone congenial enough but she can sense he’s building up to something. “I mean the lack of variety is going to get boring for one thing, cowgirl every time? You never letting him on top is just mean. A man has needs May, needs that include sometimes just pinning you down beneath him and fucking the hell out of you ‘til you scream.” And doesn’t that just create a lovely picture for her mind to roam about, but she’s no time to let her thoughts wander off topic.

“What we do is none of your business,” is what she ends up saying instead of the ‘fuck you’ that wants to escape her lips. She knows that it's still a fairly stupid thing to say in the position she's in and the drugs he's on but she's never been one for restricting herself totally just because it might land her in trouble. 

He's moving swiftly to hover over her, intending to intimidate as he looms in close to her face. She thinks about closing the inch of distance to kiss those soft lips and redirect his focus back to fucking her, back to the God damned plan but he's talking before she's chance. “Everything you do with that body is my business. Everyone you take to your bed I will find out about. We will do this every time until you understand that you are mine,” he talks directly into her face, watching her expression closely.

“Fuck you.” Yeah not smart, she knows.

“Not just yet,” he says with a smirk, backing away from her. “First we're going to finish finding out exactly what you've done with Ward and address exactly who you belong to.”

He sits up and straddles her chest looking back to Ward as she is seemingly completely forgotten or at least excluded from his little discussion.

“So, Ward... kissing?” he starts the questioning with a smile.

“She doesn't really seem to like to be kissed,” she’s surprised by all hell that Ward even answered him. Ward should know better than to engage the interrogator at all. He’s had the bloody training. She’s seen it on his file. So, he’s just an idiot then for not taking Coulson seriously.

“Really?” Phil asks slowly, turning his gaze directly to skewer her in wordless question. She's aware from the heat in her face that she may be blushing as she looks away in shame. Not her fault he doesn't kiss her right.

“You don't like kisses May?” Phil finally verbalises the question, false astonishment lacing his tone. She glares at him in answer. He knows she does. 

His lips descend almost immediately to press against her own. She counts it as a small victory that she manages to stay unresponsive under them. He sits back considering her when she ignores him. With a shrug and an “okay” his hand is grabbing the back of her head, fingers entwining with her hair to wrench her head up neck bent at an uncomfortable angle as his lips crash back down on hers. His kiss is an assault. An attack forcing her lips against her own teeth until she parts them, let's his tongue hammer it's way inside her mouth without further resistance. He owns the kiss. Possesses her mouth. His tongue batters her own down out of his way when she tries to meet his. Over ruling her. He doesn't want or need her cooperation. He takes. She hears whimpering before she realises it's her and clamps down on all sounds as he pulls away. She's breathlessly gasping as he turns to Ward with a see there gesture.

She’s in no two minds about it now – next time she has hold of a gun she’s shooting the bastard! He is not allowed to play around with her like this just because he knows how to play her body against her.

“Kiss her,” Phil instructs Ward and she’s a moment of scoffing internally at the ridiculous idea. She is no more kissing Ward in front of Phil than kissing Maria in front of Fury... Hmm... now there’s an idea to mull over at length later. Ward hesitates but shuffles across on his knees and it's only now she notices his hands are bound with the extended handcuffs she was wearing earlier. No wonder he's not slipped them yet.

He hovers over her briefly before descending intending to kiss her. She rears up, snaps teeth at the air in front of his nose, forcing him to fly backwards out of range with an oath. She smirks. She's not kissing anyone she doesn't want to kiss. 

Phil has her hair in hand as expected well before she's finished congratulating herself, growling into her face with eyes a little bit wild, a little bit scary if she's honest "If I say he kisses you then you let him kiss you." 

It's a threat. A very arousing threat.

“Kiss her,” he orders Ward again, keeping his hand holding her head steady in place by the harsh grip in her hair. Fine! If he wants her to sit through this then she will. For now. 

She lets Ward kiss her. Let's his lips press against her own. He's trying to impress she'll give him that. All gentle pressure, little licks, rubbing and suckling. It's a hell of a kiss if she wanted to play gentle. But it's completely at odds with the hand in her hair strangling her in place. “Let him in,” Phil’s voice orders close to her ear, shaking her head so that she feels a little pain and gasps. Ward doesn't press the advantage.  
Idiot.

“Don't be so gentle with her, Ward. She likes it rough,” Phil goads him. “Stick your tongue in her mouth like it’s your cock and you’re trying to force it down her throat.” 

She's blinking up at him in shock even as Ward’s tongue introduces itself to her mouth. She battles him back, tongue meeting his own, flicking at him, pushing him away, fighting him at every turn until the hand in her hair pulls her away from him violently. Then she’s swearing.

“Kiss him like you kiss me, May,” Phil growls directly into her face his frustration more than obvious. “I want him to know what he'll be missing when I'm fucking you again.” 

She's tiring of these games and they’re getting no closer to the lot of them coming whilst ever they’re arguing over a kiss so she lets him. As his lips meet hers again she lets him press inside, lets her tongue meet his with a gentle flicker of welcome, moaning as he presses deeper, brushes against her, explores her as he wishes. He's no Phil but he's not half bad at kissing she decides as she's left gasping when he leaves her. The hand in her hair having disappeared unnoticed at some point during the kiss.

“Now how about these nipples, Ward. Have you played with these much?” Phil’s asking like an enquiring teacher of a pupil looking for praise on extra credit work. It’s not an image that works for her!

“Oh yeah,” Ward says with a grin and it's a total boys club as they all but hi five over her. 

“A little petting, bit of kissing, nothing much,” she buts in nonchalantly. She can’t resist taking them down a few pegs when they’re so obviously patting themselves of the back.

“So, some heavy petting like this?” Phil asks as his hand comes up to cover her breast, kneading and rolling her flesh gently. “Or like this?” he says moving to focus on her right nipple with only his fingers, pressing, rolling and pulling lightly until she's all but moaning in place as the sensations spin her mind from conscious thought to focus just on that gentle pressure. 

“Nothing much,” she manages – it’s a miracle she manages to form words let alone have them make actual sense right now as he continues on manipulating her nipple.

“Have u ever pinched her?” His fingers echo his words pinching down before immediately letting go as she gasps and wriggles in response. 

“Once,” Ward sullenly answers. He’s damn right he only got to pinch her once, she decked him for trying it on then tied his hands to the headboard whilst he complained as she pinched his nipples and rode him harder.

“Then I bet you've never clamped them. Never tightened them down so hard that they burn no matter how she moves? You really should have, Ward. She makes the prettiest little sounds when her nipples are on fire,” Phil explains like its gospel that all men around the World should know about one Melinda Qiaolian May. She’s no time to argue though as his fingers clamp down, a hand to each breast, tight and sudden pain rocketing her arousal up a few more notches. He maintains his grip despite her gasping, increasing the vicelike pressure until she's forced to give in to it, forced move, back arching and writhing under him seeking to lessen the pressure however she can. Then she's keening as he ramps it up another notch, tightening further until she's near whimpering.

She misses the contents of his next words but it doesn't seem to matter as blood rushes back into her suddenly freed left nipple moments before a hot mouth sucks it inside, a cautious tongue pressing and pushing against her as the blood rushes back to her abused nub. It's enough to make her bite her bottom lip to hold in the shout that wants out. Then the same is echoed on the right and there's no way she can keep the cries inside as a skilfully slick tongue rolls around her, tickles and teases as the pain dissipates into pure pleasure. 

She's moaning and writhing between those two hot mouths as they work her over. Suckling and kissing, tongues dancing and teasing and pressing and oh god just everything. 

Everything and more in counterpoint. 

Keeping her guessing. 

Building her up higher as they play her body like an instrument. 

The beautiful heat is just as suddenly gone from her right. The whispered ‘bite her’ barely registering before vicious teeth clamp back down on it, digging in painfully eliciting a chocked off scream before a tongue worries at it. 

Ward’s a little more cautious in biting her. Sensible really given that at some point she's getting out of these restraints and there will be revenge! His teeth dig in lightly before steadily increasing the pressure. Waiting until she's taught as a bow under them, pressing harder until she's whimpering steadily from the pain before letting go. Letting her exhale and breathe heavily as they both back off and exchange grins at her muddled gasping state.

“Ah but we seem to have missed her neck in our hurry to play with these little nubs,” Phil says giving each a tweak that makes her jump. She's far too sensitive now for such casual pinches to be ignored. “Lick and suck and even bite her but don't you dare leave any marks,” Phil says. It’s a growling threat, an order from the alpha male and it makes her shiver in want of more even as lips find her neck working their way across her collar bone. She rocks her head back bearing more of her throat to their torments in submission or desire it doesn't matter which. Phil’s mouth finds itself fitting over the bite mark he left earlier, suckling on the already tormented skin gently enough that it only stings but it’s a stark reminder of his possessive claims upon her. She whimpers almost soundlessly as he sucks the skin taught against his mouth, intending no doubt to bruise her further, mark his ownership over her again, and they both back off.

“You telling me, Ward, that you’ve never pulled her hair?” His hand grasps her hair as expected but far more harshly than she thinks is coming, wrenching her hair back until she can no longer see him at all. The pain from her roots almost adding to the pleasure they’ve already created that coils low in her stomach, only increasing at Phil continuing to exert his control over her body. “Doesn't he know how you love to be directed by a hand pulling your hair?” 

She assumes it’s rhetorical. She’s not sure she has the cognisance to give any answers that make sense right now.

“Has he ever gotten rough with you, May? Has he ever nipped you? Sucked too hard? Pinched you? Or has he even bitten you?” She’s shivering lightly as he puts actions to his words, picking a different and unexpected place each time to tease her further. 

“Now that is a shame,” Phil continues in false commiseration. “You're missing out, Ward. When she's in the right headspace sometimes she'll come just from you biting her neck right about here he says breath ghosting over her skin. She holds herself tense as the second drag on but the expected painful bite of teeth through her skin doesn't materialise. He nips gently at her throat, more a scratch of those dangerous teeth than anything else, before moving straight away again. She breathes out a sigh of relief and catches his smirk as he lets go of her hair to allow her to look down at what he's doing again.

“Hmm... now where else would I have expected you two to at least have touched,” Phil pretends to question himself, shuffling down her body to almost kneel on her thighs. She assists him, quickly shuffling one leg then the other from under him so that he can kneel on the sofa in between as she spreads one up over the back and lets the other fall to the floor to give him room. It leaves her completely exposed and shivering as cold air brushes across her wet nether lips. He catches the shiver, assumes he’s the cause and smirks at her again. He loves it when she can’t hide her reactions from him. 

He’s so God damned pleased with himself that she wavers between wanting to smile at his boyish glee and wanting to smack him upside the head for playing with her so easily.

“I bet you’ve never let him taste you either have you, May? Now that is just mean. Who wouldn't want to lap at those deliciously tasty folds of skin, run their tongue up and down seeking more of that sweet juice... Has she let you at least finger her?” His fingers enter her without warning making her arch up suddenly tense and out of control. The pleasure as he rubs inside, crooking his fingers at just the right angle to make her see stars, almost makes her miss Ward’s response. But those delightful fingers are retreating, leaving her again far too soon. If they’d stayed then she might have been able to... but no, he’s backed off again leaving her struggling frustrated and gasping for breath, her breathing control exercises completely null and void. Phil’s casual dominance, just taking whatever he wants and playing with her body irrespective of whether she wants him to, seemingly unconcerned with her pleasure is incredibly hot.

“No,” Ward replies to a question she may have missed. He is sullen, more than likely dangerously aroused. Phil had better know what he's doing tormenting Ward like that. Ward is dangerous enough without being teased whilst under the influence of a pollen like substance.

“Now, if you'd been a little more respectful just then and acknowledged that she's mine I might just have been convinced to let u have a taste. Oh well. Your loss,” Phil says cheerily rubbing it in before slurping her juices from his fingers, suckling on them noisily to prove a point withdrawing them with a pop as the suction is broken. She can hear Ward’s groans as he does so. Can hear Fitz’s in the background too as well as the slight squeak of leather that indicates Fitz is moving slightly.

The wet fingers reappear at her ass and she freezes deadly still in half panic. “Phil no,” she's quick to say, her mind suddenly stone cold sober.

“You’ve never let him fuck your ass have you, May?” Phil asks her quietly dangerous as though he wouldn’t actually have guessed the answer to be a ‘no way in hell.’ 

She’s no inclination to risk being cocky with him as she quickly splutter outs “No. No, never.” It seems to satisfy him as he turns back to speak with Ward still kneeling at the side of them in some bizarre show and tell.

“She's only occasionally let me play with her ass before,” Phil tells him and really she’d have preferred that remain private. “Spent a whole week fucking nothing but her ass just to make a point one time.” Phil really does have the gift of oversharing things she’s really REALLY rather he didn’t share. She can only be thankful that Skye and Simmons aren’t here to hear this.

“Phil don't-” she tries to interrupt but his glare hones in on her immediately and she stops in stride. She clenches her jaw and raises her head in small challenge, glaring back.

“Do u need me to make a point now, May?” he asks as the heat of his glare increases, pressing that wet finger harder against her rim in threat.

She gulps. She loves him all dominating and threatening. It's nearly worth pushing him further but his current pattern of behaviour letting Ward follow him on everything makes her more cautious. Much more cautious.

“Sorry, sir,” she replies looking down submissively.

She's rewarded for conceding with a chaste kiss. A very Phil kiss before he darts off.

“So, lets summarise then,” Phil says clearly, slapping his hands together and twisting them and good God it’s definitely only Phil who can do something like this and still deliver it as though it’s a formal mission briefing. “It’s just your breasts and pussy that you’ve been sharing out.” He makes it sound like she’s been sleeping with anyone who asks rather than with one guy in a moderately committed manner. “You’re a slut, May!” he proclaims. She’s definitely not. She considers ending his little power trip now with a kick to his head, slipping the tie binding her wrists, or bringing her thighs up to wrap his neck in a choke hold. The potential ways out of this and incapacitating him are innumerable. She’s almost thinking of settling on one when his hands take up gentle stroking caresses of her breasts again. The curls of pleasure reach deep inside her, intensifying as they meet, swirling steadily as they build. She doesn’t need out of this just yet... she’ll let him play a little longer. 

 

“These are your punishment for forgetting who you belong to as well as a reminder not to reoffend, he says as his lips lower to breathe hot air across her already straining nipples as she shudders from the tingling pleasure. “Don't worry. If you need more reminders I'll happily oblige again.” His soft lips press gentle chaste kisses all around her right breast as she wriggles trying to get him to move them to her nipple but he just moves with her, avoiding where she wants him the most. Then he repeats on the other side, kissing teasingly gently around her breast until she wants to scream at him to get on with it.

“You’ve played with these, Ward.” She’s barely listening to what he’s saying as she coasts along in a haze of pleasure. The words don’t seem to matter just so long as he doesn’t move away from her aching breasts with that gloriously hot mouth. “Well these are mine,” she hears but doesn’t appreciate the warning contained therein. Phil’s teeth bite down hard on the underside of her right breast without hesitation or remorse, biting down hard enough to break skin as she shouts and leaps instinctively trying to get away from him. It hurts like nothing before. Hurts so bad she can feel tears dropping from her eyes to run down the sides of her face even as she bucks trying to dislodge him, to force him to release her abused flesh.

The pain barely lets up even when his jaws unclamp, releasing her. His hands on her shoulders push her back down to lie on the couch from where her body had flown up muscles tense, pinning her down and holding her there until her mind can reason enough to force her body to breathe. To exhale and inhale more regularly, to force the needed oxygen back into her lungs between half sobs. She can’t think of anything except her breathing and is grateful that he simply holds her down, watching her carefully for the few minutes she needs to regain control of herself.

When she can meet his eyes once more he smiles at her. She’s not the energy to feel annoyed at it or fight him over it. He lets go of her shoulders, ducking down to take her right nipple straight into his mouth, sucking it into that hot wet cavern and playing with it until she’s realising in an almost out of body type observation that for all the pain her arousal has not abated in the slightest. That actually its increased. That she’s so much closer to the edge of climax. That maybe with just a little bit more she could-

But then he backs off, laying a gentle kiss that stings far too much to the centre of where he’s bitten her, before moving his head across to kiss around her left breast. His obvious intent incites sudden panic. A primal need to escape him, to avoid pain is suddenly foremost in her mind even above the pleasure.

She admits she begs. It doesn’t seem to register that there’s an audience to it, doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing does. She begs him not to bite her again. To stop. To wait. Please just wait. 

He moves back up her body so that his head is level with her own, faces a few inches apart, and she’s relieved to note that he now looks concerned – it’s proof that there’s still something of Phil in there running this op. She can trust a little farther if he’s still in his right mind, still in control and simply playing with her. His cool finger touches her cheek, his eyes following it to one side as he follows a tear track down into her hair, hand continuing to the back of her neck. He pulls her limply up to meet his lips in a delicate kiss before lying her back down on the cushions.

“Ah May,” he whispers concern in his tone as well as his face. “You just don't get it yet.” She does. She gets it. He wants to prove to Ward that she’s his – whether because Phil is pretty possessive anyway or because of the influence of this Asgardian superdrug is immaterial.

“I do,” she tries to convince him between gasps. “I understand. You want to show Ward that I'm yours.”

“Not just Ward, May.”

“Fitz then too. Everyone,” she continues hurriedly. If she can avoid another loss of control over her body it’s to be done, she can’t handle the pain and pleasure mixed this close to the brink of orgasm without losing it entirely.

“not Fitz, May. _YOU_. You are the one who needs convincing that you’re mine,” he tells her almost kindly. That knocks her a little sideways for a moment. She’s accepted his dominance in this, has let him use her, let him play with her how he wishes. She’s always done so previously as well... maybe after a little fight sometimes, but she’s always ended up submitting to him. She knows he’s in charge. She knows they’re great together, knows he might even be someone she could have a relationship with longer term... she knows all this but none of it changes the facts. The facts are that he may well be compromised. He may go insane at any minute. His mind may deteriorate past their ability to fix. She may be forced to recommend his termination. Might even be forced to put him down herself. She can’t afford to get involved. Can’t afford to let this be anything other than a random blip on her self-enforced Phil-sobriety.

But none of that helps with right now. None of it helps her get further on with the plan, hell any plan! The sudden shock has forced her mind back to thinking again it seems as she realises that what she needs to do is anything right now to get Phil to climax and help her fix this!

“Yes, I’m yours,” she tells him seriously. “No more sleeping with Ward or anyone else. Just you. Only you.” It’s a blatant lie she hopes he will be too far gone to pick up on.

“Good girl,” he whispers against her lips before crashing down his own upon them. He kisses her deeply, just as she needs, until she’s breathlessly whining underneath him, body arching up against him seeking more as he holds just out of reach. “See, your body knows who its master is. It's just your head that needs a few reminders.”

“Please don’t bite me. Please fuck me. I know I’m yours. Please Phil. 

“Shhhhh pet. I told you. I'm going to mark everywhere he's touched you so that neither of you can forget.”

“I won’t forget. I promise I won't forget.”

“And I promise that every time you let someone play with these we'll do this again,” he threatens lightly. It’s not a threat she’s going to forget any time soon. The pain from the bite is as nothing compared to the wetness soaking her thighs from his continued dominance. His demands on her body, his statements of ownership and the enforced helplessness underneath him as he claims her have her far more aroused than she’d like to admit.

He bites down without further warning and it’s twice as bad as the first, worse than she's imagined it could be as the shards of lightening pain shoot up from that one focus point, indescribably intense. As he holds on, teeth clamped down marking her, claiming her for all to see, she can feel herself nearing the edge of climax. Her mind is confused. The pain adding to the maelstrom of pleasure already tight in her abdomen. Building her too quickly up to dangle on the edge of that precipice. Almost desiring to back away rather than be flung over because the drop may just kill her. She’s begging between breaths. She doesn’t have a clue what she’s saying. She’s pleading with him. Not to stop but to give her more, just that little bit more she needs to soar off the edge, to take flight. A new focal point grasps her attention as skilful fingers press against her clit, rubbing it directly, hard enough that her body is confused as to whether it feels good or hurts. It doesn't seem to matter as Phil orders her to “come now” and his demand forces her to let go, rockets her over the edge, stomach tightening as her back bows out of her control into a screaming climax.

 

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She's sure she's passed out a little as she comes back to awareness seemingly half way through a conversation he's having with Ward. There're a lot of terse “no sirs.” A few angrier “yes sirs.” Typical standard abrupt responses to the higher ups when you don't really like the options but refusal to respond is not permitted.

There's a hand stroking her face ever so gently. It's only then she notices she's propped up in someone's lap. Someone very males lap from the hard cock that she can feel against her ear. Her mind’s slow to get with the program and work out that it's neither Ward nor Phil as Phil’s now sitting on the edge of the couch looking down at Ward where he still appears to be bound kneeling to one side on the floor. She says appears because it's always possible he's broken free and is simply biding his time before taking action against Phil. Phil’s decision to tie her up, taking her out of the game as far as immediate action to protect him from an attack by Ward, was the wrong one.

A finger taps her forehead directing her gaze silently up to Fitz' concerned countenance. His eyes are full of questions for her - is she ok? Does she want him to try to stop them? Does she want to continue? 

She can't resist smiling at him in answer. She nods that she's ok. Better than ok. Far far better than okay. Wow. That was incredible.

She’s a little slow perhaps, a little sleepy from the adrenaline and endorphins that have been flying through her system. Oh and the plethora of incredible orgasms they’ve forced her body to take. But she’s definitely more than fine.

“She's awake,” Fitz eventually interrupts the others.

“Ah good you’re back with us. I was a little worried we'd broken you,” Phil seems suddenly jovial once again. Any minute now he’ll be cracking jokes and she’ll have to hide a smile at just how bad they are. But there’s a plan here she needs to execute. It’s a plan where they come and she doesn’t have to come a million times, which appears to be on Phil’s plan so far.

She has to clear her throat twice to get the words to come out. “No. Not broken. Just pissed that you still haven't fucked me yet,” she tries to regain her position with a little more forcefulness. She is not the broken begging crying woman of a few minutes ago. She’s never that woman for very long and only ever for a select few who she trusts to take her there.

He laughs rather than getting angry or feeling the need to reassert his dominance over her once again. It’s a relief to be honest. She needs the break. “Well as it so happens Ward and I have been talking and I have got to ask you is it true? Did you really never even give him a blow job?”

She glares at him in denial as he carries right on talking not expecting an answer. “Man’s basic right is to receive a blow job, May. I'm almost disappointed enough in you to insist that you correct your heinous mistake... but I don't think Ward deserves that after fucking what's mine,” he ends on a growling note that makes shivers run down her spine. Maybe she doesn’t need that break from his dominance after all.

“Well, as it seems that you and Ward were incredibly bad at the whole lovers thing, it seems there's only one more place for me to need to mark you,” Phil says as his fingers absent-mindedly trail across the bite marks he’s scored into her breasts. They sting tightly grabbing her focus. They look good. Hot. A reminder of his declaration of ownership that will stay with her for weeks. That she'll see every day feel every minute. Her pussy clenches down automatically at the thought of wearing his marks of ownership for weeks after this incident is over.

And wasn't there a plan somewhere in amongst all of this? When did the plan to assist in a sex pollen incident become about Phil re-asserting his ownership of her to Ward? And when was it re-asserting anyway? When did she become someone who would just let him do that? However hot it might be?

She has the uncontrollable need to push back against it all, to fight and prove... something to herself. She’s no idea what. She gulps before speaking, knowing it could be stupid even as she says it. “The only other place he's touched me is deep inside my cunt as he fucked me senseless with that monster of a cock he's got between his legs.” She ignores theirs shocked expressions and continues, fakes faux disappointment, knowing its probability the stupidest thing she's ever said but also knowing that it's the most likely thing to get them all back on track with the fucking them to orgasms rather than even more for herself. “I’m not sure you'll be able to reach that far inside me to mark me as you want to, Phil.”

It’s a foolish thing indeed to insult the size of a man’s cock. It’s ridiculously stupid to compare it as inferior to another lover. It’s almost a death wish to do either of those things whilst said man is under the influence of a sex pollen type drug making him more likely to respond aggressively. She’s never been one to take the easy road.

From the black eyes and growling she's certainly hit a nerve. A big nerve she decides as his face hovers mere inches from her own. Fitz’s hand has paused on her cheek mid stroke and frozen at the sudden violence contained between them. 

It's terrifying. 

It's fantastically arousing. 

She lowers her eyes in automatic submission to him. She knows he clocks the light shiver that runs down her body out of her control.

“My dear May, I think you're trying to manipulate control of this situation.” There's a smile in his voice as he speaks, which reassures her that she’s not actually under imminent threat of injury and that she doesn’t need to be working quite so hard to surreptitiously slip from the tie restraining her to the couch behind Fitz’s back. “If you want big and deep then I can always fist you ‘til you come screaming,” Phil declares happily. “I remember last time you found it too much though. Maybe with all your practice on Ward’s monster you'll be able to cope? And if not, well... You've still asked for it.”

Her eyes flick up to his own in sudden almost panic. She's taken his fist once or twice only. It's far too big, gives him too much control over her, makes her feel too vulnerable as she whimpers and cries and begs. She can't take that right now. She's far too exhausted to cope with that kind of mental battle. It really was stupid to push him like that, she mentally berates herself.

He's grinning at her pleased with himself and probably with her sudden concession as he leans down low to push the point home. “What do u think, May? Shall I force my fist up inside that tight wet cunt? Make you dance as my puppet as you cry and scream and beg me to make you come? What do you say, May?”

It’s clear that her physically indicating her submission to him in this moment is insufficient following her verbal insult. She looks at him with almost tearing eyes hoping that it really is just a threat. That despite whatever influence he's under he is still capable of reason, still in control of himself enough to hear her and respect it when she means no. 

If he tries it she's in a position to take him out. Probably. Her legs as free so kicking him is probably still the best option given his position. She could probably convince Fitz to release her thereafter. Ward could be a problem but bound as he appears it'd take him a few minutes to be up and fighting.

“Please don't, Phil,” she whispers just for his ears, her eyes trying to emphasise that she's scared. That she needs him to be Phil, needs him to see it, needs for him to... She just needs her faith in him proved correct. Even now as he suffers under pollen. She needs him to be her Phil.

He smiles down at her, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead as one would a child before sitting back on his heels and addressing Ward once again and she sighs audibly with relief as he changes the subject, chin dropping to her chest as she almost sobs out in relief.

“So, you've only ever been on the bottom? Guess that means you never fucked her from behind like an animal? You should Ward. You really should. She makes the sexiest noises when you fuck right over her g spot, hammer against it without care or caution. Gods, it feels like she can come for days vicelike around your cock when she gets started. She's like a wild thing you have to pin down to ride but wow what a ride.”

Ward looks like he's on the verge of begging as his cock strains in a hard line against his jeans and his body tremors lightly. Fitz has shifted a half dozen times unable to keep still under her head whilst she herself is aching with need and raring to go and Phil's hardly touched her since the last climax.

“Fitz, get out the way. It's time for me to claim this slut’s cunt,” Phil orders. Despite the slur, she rolls as best she can to assist him in the completely awkward and not particularly sexy manoeuvre to get her turned over onto hands and knees on the too narrow sofa whilst her arms are bound and to get Fitz to slip out from under her. It takes only a few words from Phil to get them all back in the mood immediately 

“You're mine, May, don't ever forget it again,” he declares, covering her back with his own, letting her feel him finally as he presses forwards into her with a low growl. 

 

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She’s going to kill Coulson!

It’s like the thought is on a looping track, repeating through the forefront of her mind as he steadily fucks her. He’s teasing them both... make that all four of them. Fucking her so slowly that she’s no hope of coming from it even as it mails home the message that he’s in control, even now as he fucks her with the other two watching on jealously. 

She’s tried almost everything to get him to speed up the pace, to let them both work properly towards a climax she can’t really imagine she can achieve after so many but towards one he definitely more than needs for oh so many reasons. 

She’s tried clamping down, clenching her internal muscles over him, hoping to spur him into fucking her faster but all she got was a gasp, a smack on the ass and a “no, May”, before he continued at the same ridiculously steady pace despite her tightening. 

She’s tried rocking back into him the limited amount of room she had spare to play with between where her wrists were tied, hoping to drive him harder inside her but all he did was pin her neck down to the sofa cushion, holding her in place with one large hand whilst continuing to fuck her oh so slowly.

She’s even tried begging. Against her express wishes it seems her body over rules her mind even now. She received a condescending ‘good girl’, increased whimpering and groaning for the voyeurs, and that same damned sluggish fucking.

She’s about ready to scream and/or rip her wrists from the now much tighter tangled bindings to turn the tables on him and fuck them both to climax. Actually... that’s not sounding like an altogether bad plan right about now.

She begins to surreptitiously part her wrists, covering the small movement with moans and whines not entirely faked. She’s distracted momentarily by Fitz’s sudden deep groan, head turning to locate him back on the opposite chairs, fisting himself with eyes locked into her and Phil as he claims her in front of them.

She’s never been one for exhibitionism but having the two of them here, bearing witness as Phil claims her like an animal isn't making her feel self conscious as she’d have expected. Rather the opposite in fact. She feels like crying out with him that “yes, she's his.” Telling them both, telling everyone, hell telling the world that she's his.

“Sir please,” Ward is suddenly quietly begging. Her head shuffles, her cheek pushing against the cushion she’s forced against by Phil’s heavy hand on her neck to locate him still on the floor next to them. His whole body is vibrating with an urgency, a need she’s never seen in him before. “She's yours. I admit that. Please please untie me. Let me...”

“She's mine?” Phil clarifies directly, seemingly completely unaffected by the fact that he’s fucking her and continuing to fuck her at that steady rhythm without falter despite his attention deviating.

“Yours. All yours,” Ward promises breathlessly.

“Fitz untie him,” Phil simply orders. She’s no energy to tell him how damnably stupid it is for him to release Ward. If he gets taken down at least maybe Ward will fuck her to climax... no, wait. That’s not what she wants. Rewind and erase that thought.

“Please please untie me too. Please Phil,” she begs instead. “Please Fitz,” she tries too as Fitz finishes releasing Ward. Ward’s hand goes straight to his jeans, releasing his cock from its confinement with a deeply masculine groan before taking himself in hand with an almost girlish whimper.

Fitz looks to Phil for permission before working the knots steadily free despite her twisting them tighter fighting with it.

“Play with your tits, May,” Phil orders as he picks up the pace a little and she forgets all about turning the tables on him. She shuffles until she can reach underneath.

“First run your fingers over my marks. Remind yourself before you play with those pretty little nipples that they're mine. That I own them. I own you.” Damn the man for building her up again so easily. Has she no control over her own body?! Does he really possess all of its secret buttons to work her up again so effortlessly from being angry at him to racing up towards another orgasm as he speaks?!

She traces them ever so softly with barely there touches, feeling the slight sting of hurt even still. Reminding her exactly as he wants, that she’s his. That he’s claimed her. There’s a little stickiness from the slight blood that has congealed where he broke the skin, which makes her gulp uncomfortably. 

But the overwhelming feeling from tracing his marks is of safety, of security. That he wants her and has marked her to keep her for himself. Possessive. She clenches down rhythmically around his cock deep inside her. It makes them both gasp before he picks up the pace again.

“Maybe I should pierce them for you, May. Give you a more permanent reminder? Would you like that, May?” Oh God! She would! She’d like to carry that reminder with her for more than the weeks it’ll take for these to heal. But she can’t. She knows it’s just this once. Just this one blip she’ll allow herself.

She's sobbing with the pressure. Riding high on the precipice of something glorious again. He growls down low in demand increasing the pace of his hips thrusting silk sheathed steel inside her.

“Yes,” she sobs brokenly between gasps. “Yours. I'm yours. Please Phil. Mark me. Please. Make me yours. Come inside me. Mark me with your cum. Please. Please.” She's sobbing and begging gasping through it all as she cries beyond any semblance of propriety or self.

“I will May. It’s okay. I'll make it so everyone knows you’re mine. Now play with those little nipples.”

She switches quickly from tracing the marks of his ownership to rolling fingers around her now overly sensitive nipples making herself gasp and flinch away when even the lightest pressure shoots daggers of painful pleasure to add to the maelstrom already building inside her lower stomach.

“Pinch them, May,” he orders and she almost cries out as she clamps down a finger and thumb on each. 

“Pretend they're my hands, my fingers touching them, playing with them, hurting them.” She increases the pressure until she’s actually crying out as she imagines him clamping down between his larger fingers. 

“I'm not going to take it easy on you, May. You've been very headstrong recently. It's time to correct that. Make sure you don't stray again. Now, tell me whose you are May,” he demands as he hammers harder into her, hips smashing into her ass trying to get deeper inside her.

“Yours, yours. Oh god. Please I’m yours,” she begs him to let her come, to stop demanding her brain make sounds like words and just... keep... doing... that...

“Then come for me. Now!” he demands

And with his demand he lets go all of his confounded control, violently pummelling into her as though intending to wreck her for anyone else. She screams and screams beneath him as her muscles spasm beyond her control in a painfully intense climax, feeling his cock jump deep inside her as he scours her pumping her full of his cum. 

He holds in place for what feels like an eternity as she rests collapsed down onto the sofa with only his hands keeping her hips up as he lists sideways himself against the sofa back forcing gallons of cum inside her, claiming her for all to see. 

She can hear the slick wet noise of Fitz and Ward in the background but it doesn’t seem to matter that they’re witness to all of this. Nothing seems to matter right now except sleep... if only she had the time for that.

 

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She groans at the pain as he slips wetly form her sore pussy.

“May?” his small voice almost hesitatingly asks, confused.

“Phil?” she asks in response, not to ask if it’s him but well to ask if he’s _him_ again. It seems as though he’s finally cured. That was fast her mind adds before her consciousness catches up to point out that if anything, fucking her through that many mind blowing orgasms over the last what must have been hours is actually anything but fast.

“Why are we fucking in the middle of the common area? ... Why are Fitz and Ward watching? ... Am I dreaming?” his voice is turning almost panicked as his mind catches up, clocking various issues with their current state.

“Pollen,” is her succinct answer to all of his questions.

“Really?” he asks almost hopefully. Probably with a raised eyebrow but as he’s yet to get off her she can’t exactly turn around to see his face.

“Really,” she confirms dryly.

“Huh.”

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wasn't initally any part of what I'd written so it's an added extra for all you fabulous folk commenting and making my day :D  
> You know who u are!
> 
> Hope u like it!  
> xxx


	6. Coulson's cured - Horray! ... Or Not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta admit it was impossibly hard trying to top the last chapter
> 
> ... so I didn't ;)
> 
> Hope u enjoy it anyway...

She deals quickly and succinctly with the matters Phil apparently needs answering immediately:

“Did I-”   
“Yep.”   
“Oh God.” 

“And did I-”   
“Oh yeah.”   
“Really?”   
“Um Hm.”   
“Oh.”

“So did you-”  
“Phil?”  
“Yes?”  
“Shut up.”  
“Okay.”

Apparently satisfied, Phil slumps down next to her as she shuffles over a little to let him slip down the back of the sofa to lie alongside her. Her back’s to the others and to the doors - she’d usually be more concerned about that but currently all that matters is that his arms have somehow found their way around her, loose enough that she can ignore them if she wishes but the offer is there is she wants to roll in closer. She doesn’t let her mind think about the decision, doesn’t let it throw all the doubts and the reasons at her for exactly why she shouldn’t snuggle with him, doesn’t let it replay the constantly repeated old track of ‘this is just a blip.’ She doesn’t let any of that happen as she shuffles to snuggle into his chest. He’s warm and smells so good when she inhales against him. 

It’s only slightly ruined by the ambience, the fact that Ward and Fitz are still rustling and groaning in the background, but she’s training enough to ignore them, to focus on the here and now, on the way Phil’s arms hold her tightly to his chest, the way his chin fits so perfectly on top of her head as she breathes him in. He’s a comfort she’s been depriving herself of for the last few months. A moment of sanity in her insane world. She could lie here forever. She’s happy here.

It’s that thought that jolts her mind back into the present.

No. No, she really really can’t lie here forever. They have a situation to deal with. A job to do.

“We need to come up with a plan,” she mumbles into his chest. She’s not certain that she said it loud enough for him to hear. She probably did. She showed willing. Now she’s just gonna lie here whilst he comes up with the plan.

She can enjoy this content state of being for just a little longer. She can just ignore the world. Just turn off her mind and pretend…

 

Except, apparently, the off switch is out of order and all attempts to pull the plug on her thoughts have been countermanded without her consent.

She can’t keep lying here safe from the world in his arms. She can’t do this lovey dovey foolishness with him. She won’t pretend that they’re together again, won’t pretend that after this is all over and done with she can be with him.

It’s not fair.

Not to herself.

Not to him.

 

Sure, it’d be easy to give in to herself, let herself play some more, make believe just for a little while that they’ll get a happy ending. It’ll just make it harder to leave. The more she succumbs to the temptation the harder it’ll be to give him up. He’s her drug of choice but every stumble, every blip, just makes it harder to quit again.

And she can’t afford to enjoy this drug longer term. She needs to keep her distance, now more than ever. She can’t have her thoughts compromised by feelings for him. She must remain uncompromised to do her job. She can not let her feelings cloud her judgement. 

She can’t even risk it. This is too important. His health is too important.

And feelings for him will only make it harder to cross him off if worst comes to worst.

 

She can’t do it to him either. She can’t let him get his feelings involved in all of this. She can’t work with him towards a relationship when she’s lying to his face every single minute of every day. She can’t promise trust and honesty knowing that she’s hiding the truth. She can’t sleep with him and betray him. It’s hard enough betraying a friend, keeping secrets, spying on him, reporting on him. How will he feel knowing that she’s betraying him? Whilst she hopes he’ll understand her reasoning, she knows that in his shoes she’ll feel the betrayal keenly irrespective of the reasons. How much worse will that be for him if they’re actually in a relationship? And worse still if they pick up where they left off playing, with the trust that goes hand in hand with relationships in the Scene, only to betray his faith in her by keeping everything from him - for his own good or not, he's not going to be happy if he finds out. 

When he finds out. 

Nothing stays a secret forever - its the one true constant rule every spy lives by.

 

She already wants to tell him everything, to come clean. She has for months. She watches him when he doesn’t think she is, she watches him stress over Tahiti, watches as he struggles to sleep peacefully, watches as whatever he saw in that damned base plays tricks on his mind. She hopes that what she’s seeing isn’t the first signs of a bigger problem. She’s kept them from Fury so far but at some point she’ll have to report in. Someone more knowledgeable in these matters than her needs to know what’s happening, they need to assess the situation and, if there is a problem, they need to fix it.

She wants to say something to him, to alleviate the stress and the pain he feels, maybe even to alleviate her own guilty conscience … but she can't risk his health.

The doctors say that he can not be told. It’s the only thing that they have stated with any kind of certainty. She'll maintain her silence. She'll protect his health by continuing to lie to him. Her guilty conscience and his hurt feelings are a sacrifice she’ll make to keep him in her life.

She can't face the thought of losing him again simply to have more of him now. Better to keep him alive, keep him well and have him in her life only as a team mate and friend than to risk his sanity and his life.

 

So, this scene has to stop now. He’s cured, she’s done her duty. She can’t play anymore. Better to cut the ties now than when she’s even more involved. If she stops things now then she can convince herself that neither of them get hurt too badly. They can both pretend – pretend it was only pollen-induced, pretend that there are no feelings involved, pretend that they’re just team mates. Maybe they can pretend well enough that she can even believe it. 

She’s not sure she’ll ever be able to forget the feel of contentment that his arms around her elicit.

Everything says no to this relationship. Every single rational thought is against it.

But her heart yearns for just one more second in his arms... and then the second after that...

 

Her head doesn’t prevent it as her body can’t resist planting a light kiss to the skin of his chest directly in front of her. She watches his throat as he gulps before he speaks.

“May?”

“Hmm?” she’s not the energy to want to respond at any great length even if she’d the inclination… and her mind is thankfully now engaged on more pleasurable pursuits - following his finger as it traces gently around the outline of the bite on her neck. _His_ bite mark. It makes her a little lightheaded and giddy… or it would if she was twelve and she let it.

“I feel like I should apologise-”

She stiffens immediately against him without meaning to and he stops talking almost as soon as she does. It’s an annoyance that her body now betrays her in front of him – going taught in his embrace shows her own thoughts and feelings on the subject as surely as writing them out on a memo for him to read. If he’s going to apologise for what just happened or to apologise for the marks he’s left on her then he’s going to ruin it. She’s already got to end this. She was looking forwards to at least having the reminder for a few weeks. But if he’s going to apologise then she’s going to spend the next few weeks looking at these marks and remembering that he didn’t actually want to do that, that he didn’t actually want to claim her or leave marks and rather than remembering the pleasure fondly she’s going to be constantly reminded that he didn’t want this.

“Don’t,” she tells his chest firmly. She doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t know what expression will show on her face, what upset may linger in her eyes for him to detect when she tries to hide everything between a too calm mask.

He sighs before his hand comes up from around her back to brush the hair that covers her face behind her ear. She shakes her head away from his touch. She doesn’t want the comfort, doesn’t want the falseness of it all.

“You shouldn’t make assumptions,” he tells her quietly as his hand eventually moves away from her. 

He’s a cryptic bastard. She’s no intention of playing his game, asking what he’s on about. In fact, she’s no intention of further talking to him on this subject at all! She doesn’t need the hurt, the recriminations on top of what she already has to give up. Maybe it won’t be all that hard to give him up after all – seems the drug of choice is no longer available to her!

She’s immediately far more energy than she previously estimated as she pushes away to glare at him, creating the distance she needs between them even as his arms refuse to release her. 

“Wait,” he demands. The tone alone makes her hesitate mid-escape. It’s his Dom tone – a tone that demands obedience and promises so many things. She’s left momentarily fighting with herself over whether to continue moving or wait as he requests. Okay demands. 

He uses her hesitation, rolling to pin her down to the sofa, hovering above her and she takes a little more active participation in what he’s doing rather than the cartwheels her thoughts are trying to think their way through.

“Let me up, Phil,” she threatens him quietly.

“Not yet,” he tells her smugness coating his sickly tone. She’s had enough. He’s ruined this. She’s not playing anymore. If he thinks pinning her down is a way to control her then he’s forgotten just how much training she actually has – simply because she’s let him control things this far does not mean she’s a push over. He’s a fool to even attempt to pin her. 

She tenses ready to fling him up away from her - over the back of the sofa she thinks is probably just about enough to knock some semblance of sense back into his thick skull! To think she actually let pollen influenced Phil do all that to her! If she’d known sober Phil was going to be such an arse afterwards she’d have kicked him in the head before they ever got started.

“I wasn’t going to apologise for fucking you.” Oh… well… okay then she’ll hold off on introducing him to a concussion... 

A finger, his finger, traces the outline of the frankly spectacular looking bite mark under her right breast, making them both get distracted a little watching it just gently stroking around the edges. “I should have done this months ago,” he half whispers to himself and it fills her with a profound relief she didn’t know she needed. Evidence that this wasn’t just a pollen thing, that he does actually want her too. Even if she can’t allow it to be more than that. She’s holding her breath and no idea of that fact until his finger stops and he looks back up at her, drawing her own eyes away and breaking whatever spell had fallen over them.

“I was saying ‘I feel like I should apologise but I’m not going to,’” he tells her and damn his earnest eyes she believes him. Well, he still really should have led with that then! She’s feeling far too exhausted physically and emotionally to be dealing with such complexities.

“Unless you want me to?” he continues.

 

She’ll make him no promises. She’ll tell him no lies.

She can’t let this go any further. This is a blip.

Just a blip.

Maybe if she tells herself enough times, she’ll even convince herself of it.

 

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“Sir, please,” Ward’s pitiful interruption is blessed – not because he’s suffering, she’s not that mean and does still like him as a colleague and possibly as a friend, but because it ends the tension between them that was only increasing with her continued silence. 

They both turn to look over at him. Ward’s still kneeling on the floor but he’s now bright red in the face, sweating and desperate as his hand works fitfully over his angry cock. “I’m too… I’m too sore to…” he’s begging and it does make her feel a little guilty for just lying here enjoying the bliss. Fitz seems to be in a similarly painful position as his hand hardly moves over his own, whilst his distressed eyes are honed on her. That makes her feel more than a little guilty. Her team is suffering whilst she’s laid here content in Phil’s arms.

“We need a plan,” is what she says.

She won’t leave anyone to that kind of suffering, she’s been in that position before on pollen outbreaks. Still… she does owe Phil a little revenge for making her doubt him. “Ward’s bi,” she announces like she’s just said the Pope’s catholic as she tries to shuffle her way out from under him, but he’s watching her too carefully, waiting for the punch line and she’s unable to hide the twitch to her lips as she continues. “So, you can take him and I’ll take Fitz,” she declares just before the smile manages to spread across her face. She shuffles again, waiting impatiently for him to move so that she can get up but ends up groaning as she twists in a not so delightful way and her body punishes her for the abuse it’s endured the last few hours.

“How sore are you?” Phil asks her quietly concerned.

“I’ll be fine,” she answers succinctly. It’s not like they’ve many options here and now. The team needs her. She will cope. She’d do a lot more than take a little pain for her team.

“Not what I asked,” Phil says more sternly and God she loves this side of him. “On a scale of one to ten?”

“Four,” she answers looking him dead in the eyes, daring him to call her on it. Yeah, she aches like hell, but anything above a five and he’s likely to put a stop on her plan. The team need her. She’ll take the pain.

The fingers suddenly driving into her pussy without warning or apology and thumb pressed hard into her sensitive clit force her to break her glare as her eyes slam shut and back bows. She bites her already bitten lip hard to keep in the whimpers, nee cries, that such elicits. Then they’re gone and she’s settling back down, blinking back tears as she glares at him with renewed force as he swoops down to mollify her with a chaste kiss. She’s not mollified.

“Liar,” he whispers as he sits back up right.

She’s angry at him for playing with her. He can’t dangle what she wants but can _not_ have directly in front of her. It doesn’t seem to matter that he’s no idea of her thoughts and therefore no reason to suspect that she’s not entirely up on the game. She’s angry. She’s angry because she’d rather be angry about this than hurt. It’s easier to deal with. She’ll be angry and she’ll push him away. She’ll push the upset down, covering it with a face of righteous rage. She’ll deal directly with what needs to happen, the emotional fall out she’ll deal with later... when she’s alone and no one can see her cry.

 

“We need a better plan than the two of them simply fucking you raw,” Coulson says as his brain turns on to more analytic pursuits, seeming completely ignoring the fact that she is lying naked here under him very much not mollified! This is all his fault anyway! He got caught by Lorelei and ruined the perfectly good plan they had for taking back the plane in the first place by _shooting her in the head!_ And now she’s too hurt to help them because _he_ decided to play a little revenge show and tell with Ward and _he_ fucked her until she hurts.

“You could try giving them blow jobs?” Coulson mumbles down at her, unaware of the thoughts running through her mind.

“Or you could,” she parries mockingly but he seems not to pick up the warning in her too blank tone.

“Er…” is his well thought out response as he brushes that suggestion firmly under the carpet. “Or we could try your ass?” he continues.

“Or yours,” she returns snarkily, letting a little of the rage through the mask, giving him half a clue that he should really be running already. Running as fast and as far from her as he can. He certainly shouldn’t be continuing down this line of idiocy.

“I’d stretch you out properly, make sure it didn’t hurt,” Phil continues lowering himself back over her to whisper it into her ear as though he’s just got to coax her into it. She’s not coaxed.

“No,” she tells him succinctly. She’s not playing. He needs to get a clue before he digs himself in any deeper. There is no way that Ward’s cock is going in her ass. That’s a step too far even for her team.

“I could tie you down again, if you like. Maybe tie you back over the bar so that you can’t move at all. So that just your ass is on display. And we can play with it, stretch out that little hole…” he is really just not getting the idea that she is no way going to be convinced to take Ward’s monster of a cock up her ass. It’d probably split her open! Never mind the fact that the three of them are quite clearly going to remember all of this post-pollen, which really was not the ideal situation. Why couldn’t they have encountered one of the amnesia pollen type versions where everyone actually forgets what happened whilst under the effects? Although it has been source of much Shield gossip that actually there is no amnesia version and actually those involved are just far too embarrassed to admit that they remember what they did whilst under the effects.

“You wouldn’t be able to stop us if we tied you down tight enough,” Phil is continuing to whisper in her ear, an apparently absent minded finger rolling around her right nipple as he tries to convince her. “I’d let Fitz fuck you first of course.” Oh of course! her mind repeats sarcastically as her thoughts build in a crescendo of vexation. 

“He could push in and stretch you that little bit more than fingers alone can manage…” Oh so kind an offer! 

“Or I could fist you instead… get you really ready to take on Ward’s cock…” If he comes up with any more of these gems of ideas she’s going to have to shoot him. Sooner rather than later! Sod all these plans and keeping him alive, hale and whole. Now, where did that icer he had earlier end up…?

“Or maybe you’d rather if I just let Ward fuck you straight off the bat? Hold you down and ignore your screams? You like that sometimes…” Yeah she likes that sometimes – sometimes when they’ve done plenty of prep, when it’s her already wet pussy and not her ass they’re talking about invading, oh yeah and when the cock to be shoved up inside her doesn’t resemble a baseball bat!

“No.” 

It’s all she says but she thinks it’s pretty damn clear, no way to really misinterpret that as an answer.

“No? But don’t you want... Or are you playing reluctant prisoner? We can do that,” Phil is quick with the reassuring tone. Reassuring? Huh – laughable! She’s not sure her eyes can narrow or her brows glare at any greater intensity but they’re certainly trying for her. At this rate she’ll end up with a headache from all the glaring.

“No,” she confirms. It’s really not that hard a concept - she does not intend to have her ass invaded by Ward’s monster at any point under any circumstances with any level of preparation at all. Oh and SHE’S NOT PLAYING ANYMORE! For very good reasons. Reasons that seem actually to matter a lot more now that they’ve been joined by one additional reason of primary importance – that Phil’s being an arse!

“And so by no you’re meaning...” Phil trails off as though confused. Argh! The man is impossible! And this is all his fault!

Fine! If talking isn’t working then maybe a demonstration is in order...

 

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She rolls the pair of them over so that they land on his back on the floor. Hey, she’s not taking the impact – he’s the one being an ass. His slightly stunned ‘waaah’ confirms he’s not expecting anything of the sort. 

She rises quickly, striding round the sofa to grab up what she’ll need. He’s not so stunned that he isn’t standing, following her, talking at her questioning her actions. She ignores what he’s saying – this is a practical demonstration not a discussion. She turns to face him once she has what she needs, pushes his shoulders until he faces away from her then frog marches him forwards with a palm to his back. He co-operates whilst he talks at her for say the first 80% of the way over to the bar, then it appears he finally gets a clue as he tries to turn back towards her. 

She’s far faster than he is and she’s been waiting for him to react to this, so it’ll surprise no one that she’s got him propelled forwards over the bar, wrists tied down with his own damned silk tie to one of the cupboard handles keeping him in place stomach over the bar.

She takes a second to share a “Stay right there” and a glare at Ward as he rises to stand. The clash of wills through heated glares alone seems enough for him to reluctantly move and sit on one of the chairs, arms spread across his knees in a gesture meant to pacify her.

That Phil’s demanding and maybe a little bit angry comes out in his tone as he moves rapidly through talking through gritted teeth to shouting to trying to reason with her and back again. None are going to work, obviously.

His slightly taller frame means he can just about reach tip toes down to the floor even as his stomach lies flat to the bar supporting the majority of his weight as his head hangs down over the other side, but other than that and where his hands are tied to hold him in place it’s pretty much a perfect mirror of her own position earlier in the day.

She starts with a hand to his ass, a sharp smack resounding through the relative quiet of the plane. His gasp is echoed by their two voyeurs who appear to be just as aroused and interested in the current goings on as they were when it was her. They’re not currently telegraphing any intention to take action against her but she’s keeping a little attention on them just in case. It wouldn’t do for her to lose perspective here – Phil needs a quick lesson, her pride demands it even as her head reminds her that there should be a plan and that this isn’t part of it.

After a brief silence that follows the smack, his voice continues, this time shouting and berating her. She ignores him as she lands another, harder this time, to the other cheek, watching as it goes ghost white only to fade as bright red rushes to take its place.

“Do I need to keep spanking you for you to listen to me?” she asks to give him the hint he so obviously needs to bite his damned tongue. He falls silent, obviously waiting for her to continue. It’s the first sensible thing he’s done these past few minutes.

“Good. Now, if I recall correctly, your plan goes something like this: I’ll tie you down so you can’t move and your ass is on display... Then we all play with your little ass hole, stretching it out.” She talks over him as he tries to interrupt. “Then you get a choice between Fitz fucking you first, being fisted, and oh yes, my favourite, Ward fucking you without any real prep so we can hear you scream. Did I get those right,” it’s a rhetorical question but she’s not surprised when he tries to answer her. 

She spanks his ass again to get a little quiet as she continues: “You say ‘no’ but I’m guessing you’re just playing reluctant prisoner and that you really do want us to rape you anyway, right?” This time the question does hang into silence. 

She lets it sit there a little while. Lets him think it all through.

Waits a bit longer. At some point he’ll have to break the silence. 

He’s never been able to keep quiet for very long.

....

...

 

“I feel like I should apologise...” Phil’s voice comes back hesitantly eventually. It a typical Phil combination of contrition, hopefulness and humour. So typical even as he’s hanging butt naked tied down over a bar in his own plane (Yeah yeah, the paperwork says its his) that she’s very nearly almost smiling. Damn the man but he always seems to manage to make her smile despite her best intentions. And all that righteous anger is dissipated in the wake of his stupidly adorably bad sense of humour.

“Damn right you should apologise,” she tells him sulkily far less irritated than she intends as she walks around the bar to untie his wrists.

 

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He makes a show of groaning and grumbling as he slides off the bar back onto his feet. It’s a show she ignores entirely as she tries to come up with a plan, any God damned plan! Just one that gets the two of them off without her or Phil ending up injured would be good right now. Ward is the problem, he’s always the damned problem!

“You know, you could have just said you didn’t want to play anymore,” Phil says quietly as he sidles up on her left side to join her in looking down at Ward and Fitz as they continue to try to reach release with tired hands and sore looking cocks. She glares at him briefly in answer - like ‘no’ was an insufficient answer to his ridiculous suggestions – then turns back to considering the room at large trying to come up with a decent plan.

“Do you have a better plan?” he asks her interrupting her train of thought. More like a broken carriage – it was going nowhere. She glares at him again in answer. He does the planning, remember? Not her. She executes... hmm execution might be a way out of this... them or her... she’s not particular. No, no more morbid thoughts. This is not life or death. Worst comes to worst they can icer the pair of them and she deals with them later when she’s a little more recovered and a little less sensitive in certain places. 

“Well... if I may offer a tentative suggestion? Very tentative you understand. Definitely requires your input and should no way be taken to mea-” Phil starts rambling with a smile as he tries to wind her up a little at her, maybe, slight over reaction. Maybe. Slight.

“What’s the plan, Phil?” she asks, finally granting him the slight twitch of her lips that mean she isn’t quite so pissed with him as maybe she was feeling earlier.

“I’m thinking that maybe if I go and get some lubricants then we can settle this with a few helping hands without any need for things to go ending up anywhere inside anyone?” 

“It won’t work,” she tells him succinctly. She’s forced to elaborate by his suddenly crestfallen expression. “I tried hand jobs and I tried blow jobs and so far the only thing that’s been enough...” she lets it trail off, he knows exactly what was ‘enough,’ intimately in fact. 

She’s still hoping he’s about to come up with some other miraculous plan when he sighs and strolls across to one of the chairs, taking a seat as though he’s not expecting anything to come to him any time soon. She can feel her own shoulders starting to slump in echo of his reaction.

She looks to her other two miserable team mates. She’ll take the pain.

She strolls to Fitz first – he’s more pathetic looking, he should be closer to climax, and he’ll cause her less pain. 

“You’re too sore to have sex with us?” Fitz asks her as she walks towards him, determined to assist him notwithstanding the cost. His tone is pathetic but its the look of hopeless desperation in his eyes that catches her – it could not be better done by a Labrador puppy denied treats. She’s struggling to give him an answer past the lump in her throat. Phil is probably right that she’s too sore to be helping them realistically but she can manage. She will manage.

Fitz leaps to his feet and disappears out of the room without another word. She glares at the air after he’s gone but it makes little difference and she’s no intention of following him... except her feet seem to end up heading that way towing the rest of her body along for the ride. Apparently, it’s catching because after a slight rustle, which she assumes is Ward finally losing some clothing, she can hear two pairs of heavier footsteps following behind her.

Even before she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she can hear Fitz from the lab talking in his usual scientist babble that the rest of them can barely keep up with let alone comprehend. He presents a pot pretty much under her nose as she flinches back away to avoid inhaling it. Her lack of excitement doesn’t appear to affect his flow.

“We have this stuff at SciTec. It’s brilliant. It’s a... well... it’s kind of a... it’s difficult to explain really but its a...”

“A sex aid?” Phil interrupts with a smirk, as he and Ward enter behind her. 

“Yes, exactly,” Fitz declares with a pointed finger and serious expression. “It helps. It aids if you like.”

“What exactly does it do Fitz?” Phil asks the question they probably all want answering.

“Well... it kind of draws blood away from the surface of the skin so that you can... not you!... but so that anyone can... well... hold out for longer. Of course with it drawing the blood away it reduces swelling. It also has analgesic qualities and works pretty well as a lubricant. It is quite ingenious really,” Fitz says as he tosses the pot high in the air, catching it with a nonchalance that says his mind is absorbed with the science of it all. He’s certainly no longer solely focused on reaching completion even as he stands there naked and very much aroused in the middle of the lab.

“We didn’t have this in Ops. Why haven’t we heard of this before?” she asks him. If they’re going to be using it then, as the only one that is definitely not under the effect of Asgardian mind control with her priorities a little skewed, she needs to be assured that it’s safe for them to use.

“Well it’s not been fully tested yet. Side effects and what not.” She knew it – its untested and far too risky for them to dabble with. They could end up hurt or in even worse of a situation than they are currently. Currently, only she gets hurt and they get cured. She’s not trading those odds for an untested chemical that could result in both of them being hurt instead. “It needs rigorous testing before we can even think of supply it to field teams. And the applications are pretty limited so not many people are really interested in running the tests. There also might be a small fraternity that don’t really want to be associated with its testing given that the main application is currently as a sex aid.” Fitz has continued talking whilst her mind makes itself up.

“We’re not giving May something untested,” Phil states. It’s final. It’s kind of nice that he’s trying to protect her. She hadn’t entirely appreciated that this chemical goop was supposed to be for her rather than for Ward and Fitz.

“What side effects have been noted?” she asks him. If she’s taking the risk then she needs to know more.

“May, I hardly think-” its not Phil’s decision, she’s about to enlighten him but Fitz is already interrupting, expousing with widely gestured arms at the goop’s greatness.

“None! None whatsoever. Well a little redness but that could’ve been caused by the events thereafter. On occasion some people have reported exhaustion but again...” 

“And how many at SciTec have been using this contraband?”

“It’s not really fair to label it as contraband, Agent May,” Fitz says a little more calmly and boy does it feel good to be ‘Agent May’ again. “No one knows it exists except the students and graduates so no one has ever banned it.”

“Graduates? Just how long has this stuff been being used at SciTec?!” Phil is back in the game.

“Well... Agent Weaver certainly recognised it so I guess its probably been around for the past thirty years or so in one form or another. On occasion someone tries to improve the formula, make it taste better and the like...” Fitz trails off at the sight of Phil’s gobsmacked face. She’s not entirely sure that hers looks any less shocked. Weaver? Thirty years! SciTec have had a miracle sex lube for the last thirty years and have kept it hidden from Ops?! Oh this so requires further investigation just as soon as the present situation is dealt with.

“It’s safe?”

“As far as we can say without proper testing.”

“There’ve been no reported side effects other than redness and exhaustion?”

“Again, as far as I know but I’m pretty sure that if there was something wrong with the formula then someone would have reported it by now. Everyone was pretty much using the stuff daily so...”

“May?” Phil’s asking. It’s her decision – miracle sex lube with the small possibility of side effects or pain.

She’s still trying to get her head around the fact that the geek squad were using a miracle sex drug and using the stuff ‘pretty much daily!’ When she was training there wasn’t time for much of that and Operations students had certainly assumed that the SciTec were getting less! Far less. Like none or thereabouts. They were all geeks. How the hell did they end up getting more sex than her? 

Probably not what she should be concentrating on right at this very minute.

“I’ll take the risk,” she answers Phil’s question.

Fitz twirls the tub slightly as he presents it to her and it’s only once she accepts that it dawns on her – she’s got to apply it. To where it hurts. And the three of them are watching.

She’s blinking a little more rapidly than she intends and looks down hoping that one or all of them will get a clue without her having to point out the obvious.

Sure they’ve all been enjoying each other’s bodies but that was whilst her thinking of what was appropriate was slightly impaired by arousal and well everyone was playing so it didn’t feel awkward. In the harsh lighting of the clinical lab though it’s more than a little awkward suddenly to be standing here naked in front of team mates and to be planning to touch herself intimately in front of them. She’s never been shy but oh boy is this weird.

“So, I’ll just go...” she starts, intending to head for the bathroom to apply it in a little privacy when none get the hint.

The lot of them jump to like she’s struck them with 240volts as they mutter excuses and bumble hurriedly out of the lab. Only Phil hesitates at the door, turning back briefly with a jokingly leering look to say “Don’t you want my help applying that?”

She takes it for the serious question underneath the joking mask that it really is. She could probably do with some assistance if she’s to reach everywhere. It’s only Phil after all. 

Just one team mate helping out another? 

About time the shoe was on the other foot.

Her head nods of its own accord and he back tracks into the lab. “You two go on up, I will assist Agent May,” he announces and she can hear the other two clunking up the metal stairs. “Wanna turn round, spread your legs and bend over?” he asks her as a grin crosses his face. She can’t let it go this way, she can’t play with him any more.

“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Sir,” Ward shouts back down to him from obviously not quite out of hearing range.

“Agent Coulson-” she starts, trying to put some distance between them.

“Ah, ‘Agent Coulson’? Is that your not so subtle way of telling me that we are not starting a relationship here then May?” he asks her disappointment dripping from his tone.

“I’m sleeping with Ward,” she reminds him. He probably doesn’t need reminding but she can’t give him the real reasons and she won’t tell him that she doesn’t want to.

“And yet, you don’t say in a relationship. Note the distinction there.”

“Fine. A relationship then,” she confirms. They’re not – its just sex but if it’s what he needs to believe she’s taken, if it’s the easier route out of this situation without hurting him more then she’ll take it.

“I’m sorry if my behaviour back there has messed anything up for you,” Phil apologises after a moment’s hesitation. 

She can’t hold back the snort that escapes. “He can get over it,” is what she gives as an answer before handing him the pot of ... she’s gonna stick with ‘goop’..., moving across to one of the benches and pushing herself up on to it.

“I’m not sure I could in his place,” Phil tells her as he follows her to the bench, standing between her legs as she sits there waiting. “Not if I’d just watched you take another man’s marks,” he’s saying it quietly, factually, like is doesn’t actually bother him but she knows him far better than that. “Not when you agreed you were his... not when you enjoyed it so much.” He’s not looking at her as he continues so she doesn’t have to fight so hard to maintain her composure, to keep every hint of reaction from her face. He’s looking down at her thighs, planning, as he swirls two fingers into the goop before setting the pot beside her on the bench. “I couldn’t just get over it,” he finishes quietly. She knows he can’t. Hell, she can’t just get over it either but she’ll damn well try. She’ll force them both to get over it. It’s necessary.

“Ward will,” she states firmly. It doesn’t matter either way. Not now. Ward either will get over it or he won’t. She already knows that she’s going to end things with him so it doesn’t matter which he chooses.

She gasps out loud, jumping almost off the bench.

Cue Coulson panic stations- “Shit! Does it hurt?! Burn?! I’ll get a towel to wipe it off!” he declares rapidly as he rushes about the lab in a frenzy. His hurry makes him careless, he’s knocking things flying. Mainly piles of papers across the floor but a vial of something smashing makes it urgent that she interrupt.

“Phil stop!” she yells over his continuing diatribe. “You’re going to break something dangerous and end up getting us both killed!”

He slows at her shouting, takes a breath, then picks up the towel that was only a bench away but that he’d somehow missed in his rushed panic. “Okay, towel,” he says presenting it to her nose before moving to wipe her clean. She catches his wrist, stopping him mid-motion and his surprised eyes flick back up to her own. “May, we need to get it off you,” he explains as though he’s talking to a five year old.

“It was cold.”

“Waah?” his dumbfounded expression really is cute. She ends up smiling at him despite herself.

“The cream stuff was just cold, Phil... it actually feels kind of nice now. Tingly... I think its working.” It is. He may only have spread it on a little of her but it feels lovely. Like a cool breath of fresh air across her skin. Cooling and calming. The pain dissipating almost immediately with a slight tickling tingle left in its place. Phil’s still a little in shock as she throws the pot of goop at his chest, a silent instruction to continue.

He does so silently. A finger ghosting the cold cream around her nether lips as she shivers, holding herself in place. The relief is blissful.

“Let me know when it’s working and I’ll put some just inside,” he tells her in an almost whisper. Seems he’s picked up on the peacefulness of this moment after the flurry of before. He’s always been observant. She nods yes to him almost immediately, lets herself lean back, arms behind her to support her in a half sitting position but giving him a better angle to manoeuvre. If it feels this good on her outer flesh then it’s going to be just what she needs inside.

He’s hesitant as he presses a finger tip inside of her, tentatively coating her inside walls just that first inch of so before retreating for more cream. It’s a god sent cream now in her mind, not some weird science chemical goop you’ll notice. It’s fabulous.

He presses some more into her, pushes it deeper inside, massaging and spreading it against her as she groans and lets her head roll back. It’s only Phil, she doesn’t need to keep up any pretences.

She is definitely requisitioning some of this next time she’s on vacation!

“Feeling okay?” Phil asks quietly. She nods rapidly, she’s feels more than just ‘okay.’ Gone is the pain of just a few minutes ago, gone are the aches that remind her just exactly what she’s been doing for the past few hours. She’ll be able to help Fitz and Ward now. That’s the plan. The plan is not to stay here letting Phil’s fingers work their magic on her... however much she might want it to be.

“Phil, much as I’m very much enjoying this... we do have a plan to execute...”

He sighs loudly before removing his fingers from her, wiping off the excess cream with the towel he located earlier. “Okay, duty calls I guess. Tell me we can pick this up later?” he almost pleads.

She doesn’t give him the response he wants as she leads the way out of the room. Pick this up later? They can’t pick this up later. This is a pollen influenced blip in her Phil-sobriety. There are good reasons. Good strong valid reasons not to get involved with him again. This... this BLIP remains a blip. That’s all it is. Just one team mate helping out another. 

She’s helped him out now. There’s no more need for her and him to do anything further. He’s free from the Asgardian pollen thing’s influence so there’s no excuse for her to continue touching him. Or even thinking of him like that.

No. 

No excuse at all.

She needs to help out the rest of her team.

 

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“You know, I really don’t think I can watch Ward fucking you... or Fitz for that matter,” he says as they makes their way back up stairs.

“Then don’t watch.” It’s not like she wants to fuck either of them right now. Actually, she’s had more than enough fucking period to take a good long break from the whole idea of sex... at least for a day or so. “In fact, you don’t need to be there at all. Head to the Cage and stay hidden with the others so Lorelei doesn’t re-infect you before Sif’s taken her out,” she orders. She’s the one running this op, he just happens to be her superior.

His dislike for this plan is apparent in the chill of the air behind her as well as the time it takes him to respond. The deep breath she hears before he responds in an overly blank tone gives him away. “That’s not a good plan. If I relapse, it’s better that I’m with you than with two non-combatants.” It makes enough sense that she simply nods, she knows he’ll pick it up from behind her as readily as if she speaks.

“Now that’s sorted, what I mean is ‘I don’t want them to fuck you’,” he says from behind her. She already knew what he meant. Fact is, it makes no difference. Their team needs help. She’s providing that help. He can get on board with the plan or... just... Well there is no ‘or.’ He needs to get on board with the plan. Period.

“Phil, they need to fuck someone. You’re not offering and there is no one else. So you can either get on board and help or go away and let me do my job,” she lets that gem of wisdom land as she pushes ahead down the corridor. They’ve little time for this conversation before they’ll be at the common area, so she needs it to make an impact. Next time they are adding another agent to the team it’s going to be a woman. An experienced woman. A woman aware of pollen incidents and happy to help out. Or else she will be killing whoever they hire... and the next one... and the next until Coulson makes the right hiring decision. She is so not going to be the only one available if this ever happens again – it happens far too often to Shield agents.

“Fine. I’ll help,” he tells her through almost gritted teeth. She’s surprised that he’s willing to help her but also not at all surprised as its Phil all over to help her even when it goes against what he wants. “I’ll help you get them both to come but I call the shots. I know how to get them to come as quickly as possible and how not to wear even your legendary endurance out helping them.” Her ‘oh really?’ doesn’t really need voicing as he realises almost immediately how that actually came out and rapidly starts trying to correct.

If he can get them to come sooner rather than later then surely that alone is a good reason to have him involved again this time. She’s already let this take far too long really. She should have heard from Sif by now – they can’t still be fighting surely? And the girls in the cage will be wondering what’s going on now that hours have passed. There’s also the still very real risk that whatever destination Ward has set the plane to is coming up on them. So, faster is most definitely better this time around.

Throw the reasons against out of the window because the best of the reasons for knocks them outa the water. Yep, it appears that the rational reasons favour of one last hurrah. 

Hurray!

She can still put it down to pollen influence, they’re not to know any different whether women are affected in different ways. She can report to feeling overly horny, submissive and tempted to submit to Phil in all ways without it being any stretch from the truth.

And she wants to be his for a little while longer. Even knowing it’ll hurt more to give him up again.

“I’m a man, May.” (she very almost nearly snorts as that beauty makes its way through the haze of her thoughts to register that Phil is still talking at her.) Phil appears to be getting some control over his hasty denials about knowing Ward and Ftiz more intimately. “I know what makes us tick. I know what they’ll like and I know just how to get you to give it to them. But I get to be the one in charge,” Phil states clearly. It’s not a request or a demand even. It’s a factual statement of his position and she can either get on board or go home.

He always has the best plans anyway.

And it can still remain just a blip. Just an Asgardian succubus’ pollen-like mind control drug induced blip.

“Yes, sir,” she replies with a smile he can’t see, before spinning and dropping to her knees in physical confirmation as he hastily halts to avoid colliding or tripping over her.

“You... you want to play... ?” She sighs internally only. He’s being far too damned cautious with her! Okay, okay! So maybe last time she wasn’t she might have overreacted, tied him up with his own tie and spanked his ass... _a little_. But she’s never been an easy submissive so he takes the risks when he takes her on.

“Yes, sir,” she emphasises. “But no anal and no fisting.” He’s smiling, smirking almost, at her conditions. That smile doesn’t bode particularly well for her. Usually they negotiate a little less directly but it’s not like they particularly have the time. “And Ward and Fitz get to fuck me and to come,” she continues thinking maybe that primary condition is what she’s missed out. The two hissed cheers of ‘yes’ behind her confirm that the voyeurs’ are also eavesdroppers and are both in favour of her conditions.

“That it?” Phil queries with that damnable smirk but she can’t think of anything else immediately.

She nods even as she knows that she’s probably left something really obvious out that he’s every intention of using against her to drive her insane, hopefully with pleasure.

“Good,” he says striding passed her into the common room. She refuses to think of it as the orgy room but maybe that would be a more appropriate name moving forwards. “Then Ward I suggest you sit back on that sofa because May here needs a ride,” Phil orders, ignoring Fitz’ whimpers at being left out again even as Ward leaps into action to shuffle back against the well used sofa. Someone’s really going to have to clean that before anyone else sits on it...

 

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It takes longer and is more awkward that she’d imagined to get them all position exactly how Phil wants them, his constant interruptions doing little to assist her in getting in the right mood for this. In fact, if she was any less aroused they’d probably have to Tahiti her too!

Ohhh kay – so that’s waaay too soon to be making Tahiti jokes even in her own mind. Point noted.

 

She’s balancing precariously held up in the air, legs spread to either side and fully exposed, over where Ward is sitting on what she’s considering renaming as The Sex Sofa. They were doing fine with the idea of her just sitting on his lap right up until Phil ordered her to sit facing away from Ward so that ‘her eyes stayed on him’ and from then onwards it just got more awkward. First he didn’t want Ward to hold her hips and direct her down on to his cock. Next he didn’t want her holding Ward’s cock as she backed herself on to him. When she pointed out exactly how difficult getting in the right place was going to be whilst ever her eyes were supposed to be staying on him he didn’t seem impressed. Then when she eventually managed to get somewhere in the vicinity of Ward’s cock and moved to sit down Phil stopped them again, this time with the ridiculous reason that he didn’t want her getting any ideas about being in control. Ward whined like he never had any resistance training to speak of when she pulled away that time. Her frustration may have gotten a little away from her as she demanded to know exactly how he expected this to work then if Ward wasn’t allowed to touch her and she wasn’t allowed to sit on his cock. His over reaction, however, was definitely just that – a total over reaction! 

“And you,” Phil said to her, the Finger of DoomTM swinging before her nose in full effect as she blinked at it. “You don’t get to come as he fucks you.”

Well. 

That’s...

 

That’s....

 

... an over reaction. 

And a total total one at that. 

It wasn’t like she was challenging his control or refusing his orders... she was just pointing out the practical difficulties in what he was saying. But she could tell from the FoD that he’s serious about it so there’s no point arguing further. She clenched her lips together to stop herself pointing out more problems as he stubbornly directed them into position.

Ward seated slightly reclined on The Sex Sofa whilst she’s held suspended with her pussy directly above his cock, legs spread out either side of her and held in place by Ward’s strong hands under her thighs. Her own arms are up over her shoulders, fingers clasped around the back of Ward’s neck in an attempt to provide her with something to use to maintain her balance. 

She found herself glaring at Phil but that was really no reason for him to tie her up again. How was she supposed to react to him hovering her with no control over Ward’s cock like that? If he dropped her she’d probably need a trip to medical! Nope, no reason whatsoever to tie her up again.

There was certainly no need for it to be his damned tie around her wrists once more. She swears if he wears this tie again she’s going to have to strangle him with it. Well, either that or steal it from him for masturbatory reasons.

And the only reason for him tying it around Ward’s neck before tying it around her wrists that she can think of is the combined torture – that he gets to choke Ward indirectly as a little revenge if she pulls against the restraints. The fact that he’s forced her arms above her head and around the back of Ward’s neck, forcing her shoulders to ache at the limited pull even now, means that strangling Ward is a real possibility, however inadvertently. She’s going to have to concentrate on keeping her fingers laced together so as not to pull on the restraints. With Phil’s detailed attention to planning, she’s almost certain that she’s going to have difficulty concentrating. Poor Ward.

But she’s more concerned for herself currently as she’s held up high at Phil’s direction but by Ward’s hands under her thighs. She hates the fact that she’s going to have no control over the penetration. He’s too big to drive in fast. Even slow it can be too much. She always stays on top, always controls just how gradually she sinks down onto him. It’s self preservation. 

It’s Phil who has put her in this position. She just has to trust that now he’s in his right mind (she hopes) that he’s not about to let anything go wrong. She’s not entirely confident that he’s going to be able to control Ward though and currently its only Ward’s hands that are holding her up.

Phil’s fingers against her nether lips are a welcome distraction from her thoughts and fears as he presses gently against her, eyes on her own looking for any sign of the previous pain, before he asks verbally “You okay here?” He accepts her hasty nod as confirmation of whatever he reads on her face. It doesn’t hurt anymore, Fitz’s special goop is truly amazing stuff.

She feels Ward jump underneath her, feels his rapid exhale across the back of her neck, feels his cock being directed against her and puts the things together to work out that Phil has most likely just manhandled Ward’s cock to where she needs it without asking either of the pair of them. It drives home the concept that he’s in charge far more effectively than anything he could have said. He’s in charge and he’s set the pair of them up so that he has complete access to their most sensitive areas, is easily able to cause either of them harm if they don’t obey (Ward more so than herself) and oh yeah he’s manoeuvred it so that both of them have their hands occupied so that they can’t move to protect themselves. Damn the man and his damnably good plans!

At least she doesn’t need to overly worry about his control over Ward. If Ward stop playing ball ... well then his balls may very well be in danger of reprisals!

Her muscles tense, her back taught as a bow, as Phil’s fingers dance around her lips, moving each off to one side so that Ward’s cock sits directly against her opening without hindrance. She’s gasping as she holds still in place. She can hear the echo of her gasps behind her as Ward struggles to hold it together. She can feel his arms shaking slightly under her but it only increases the sensation for the pair of them. She might not have been aroused through the set up but by God is her body making up for that now. She’s sweating and panting and he hasn’t even really done anything to her yet. He’s just set the scene, just levelled the threat/promise of what’s to come and she’s struggling not to beg him to let her drop down, to let her take that glorious monster of a cock inside herself. She needs-

Jesus Christ, that hurts!

She’s pulling herself away from the pain as fast as possible, lifting herself up on her arms behind Ward’s neck as much as she’s able to escape that burn.

Damn it. That hurt. She’s close to saying something unkind. To one or both of them. They should know better than to just drop her without warning even if it was only an inch. Phil’s soothing voice calms her immediate reaction even as Ward’s hands again lift her thighs up to support her, taking the weight off her straining arms and his own neck.

“This time slower, Ward. Much much slower. Or it’ll be Fitz in your place and you’ll get to sit it out and watch from the sidelines,” is Phil’s gentle direction and less than subtle threat.

She’s much more tense the second time, complacency is not her usual failing but she’s damned sure going to learn from her mistakes. Her descent is a lot more controlled this time. His cock head against her pussy a slowly increasing pressure rather than a forceful barrage as he lowers her steadily, arms shaking from the effort of trying to concentrate on not dropping her and not thrusting up inside her. Just slowly lowering her, letting that slowly increasing pressure of her own weight pressing her down onto his cock force her pussy to open, to give way to him.

She’s forgotten about Phil, forgotten the pollen, forgotten about everything to be honest as she feels her muscles give the last little stretch necessary to let him push inside, the feel of that cock head brushing up inside of her, rubbing against her stretched pussy walls... indescribable. Her back is arched against him, her head thrown back against his shoulder as her eyes squeeze closed against the sensations battering her mind.

It’s far too tight. She can’t take it. She can feel the pressure inside, the push of his cock against her, stretching her as he rubs against her insides. It’s pleasure balanced on that oh so dangerous edge of becoming painful.

She can’t take it. It’s too much. 

Her muscles complain at her fluttering in the beginning stirrings of orgasm. She clamps down on him but meets only the resistance of that small part of his cock held firmly inside her. She can hear Ward’s grumbling and pleading but it seems a world away as she lays back against him, let’s him have full control over her body whilst nothing else seems to matter.

The feel of him inside her is too much. It’s far far too much. 

“You can take it,” Phil tells her as though reading her mind, before he pulls her down a little further, drawing an almost shriek from her as her own body forces her down, forces Ward’s cock deeper inside her. A steady pressure that feels like it’s about to tear her apart from the inside out. 

She can’t. She really really can’t! 

Phil’s hand on her cheek, directs her silently to open her eyes and look at him. She can’t control the tears that feel its appropriate to make a break for it as soon as her eyes open. It doesn’t hurt enough to make her cry. It’s just so intense. The feel of him inside, pushing deeper, whilst she can do nothing to stop them, whilst she’s helpless. That its all at Phil’s command. It’s too much.

He leans up over her helping her conceal her face as he places a gentle kiss to her forehead. It's Phil being Phil and everything is right with the world again. “Trust me... this is going to be so good,” he says to her quietly. She can do this. It’s just Phil. He never pushes her further than she can go. Never demands more than she can give. She nods back affirmative, still breathing heavily.

His eyes are almost black with arousal as he sits back on his knees, pressing his fingers against where she and Ward join, massaging her, seducing her gently back up to a peak of pleasure. She can take this. She has before. It’s just he’s so big. So hard against her. Stretching her so full she’s… she’s…

Oh God! 

“Please, Phil,” she’s begging over and over between ragged gasps. 

She’s no idea whether she’s begging for him to stop or begging for more. 

“Please, please, please.”

Nothing makes sense anymore.

“You can take it,” he reassures her as his fingers move away and he pulls her down another slidingly slow inch or so. She keens as Ward’s cock pushes forwards, forcing her muscles to expand further, forcing her to just let go, just feel as he makes her his puppet. It’s too much. It’s so much. She could almost… and then he’s inside, his whole cock seated deep inside of her. Far deeper than she’s taken him before. Inside of her so big. So… so… just so…

Infinitesimally small movements of his cock inside her set off a cataclysm of reaction throughout her straining body. Every nerve screaming its pleasure in her mind seems tied to him. Every muscle shudders and tenses at a miniscule shudder, the smallest of thrusts of his cock inside her sending spasms of intense pleasure to rack her body. She’s pleading and gasping, trying to make sense enough through heaving breaths to convince them to let her come, to let her go, to just do... something... 

Anything.

“Are you close?” Phil’s only slightly breathy voice breaks through the pleasurable haze to ask her. As if he needs to ask. She’s balancing on the precipice of that endless abyss. She can feel her whole body shaking as though it’s intent upon shaking her apart if she doesn’t get to leap off soon.

“Ye-eeees,” she thinks she manages to hiss out as Ward finally moves her. It’s only a small movement. Little more than an inch upwards and back but it lets her feel him even more keenly, lets her muscles drag against him as he withdraws ever so slightly only to let her slide back down, forcing him back up inside of her without her having even the slightest control over it.

“Tell me when you can’t hold back anymore,” Phil orders.

“I... I...” she gasps. That’s pretty much now. He must know that. He always knows her mind better than she knows it herself. But she can’t find the words.

She has a few more minutes of Ward’s delicious thrusting wiping her brain before Phil speaks again, drawing her mind back to the present rather than letting her build up to the climax she’s on the edge of flying.

“Make sure you tell me, May. Or I can’t give you permission to come,” he orders so normally and controlled that she’s reminded directly that he’s not currently the one fucking her no matter how her mind is getting confused. She’s also unfortunately reminded of his directive – she’s not to come.

Oh God! Why is it that forbidding something makes it so much more tempting! Until he’d reminded her she was sure she was nearing a beautiful climax. Now she knows its forbidden to her, she’s down right certain that its about to take her over anyway. 

“I... I... I’m... I’m going to...” she manages to splutter out between sobbing gasps as her mind is taken over with one firm thought – to scale that cliff and fly off the other side.

“I’m...” she’s getting there.... it’s building deep in her stomach... tightening until her legs are shaking... until her whole body’s vibrating with the beginnings of that head long tumble into climax.

“Pull her up now, Ward,” she can hear Phil ordering but it doesn’t seem to matter where she flies, she’s so close. “Do it, Ward. If you ignore me again then Fitz will get to fuck her next whilst you sit and watch.” The bedraggled sounding ‘noooo’ is slightly drowned out by Fitz’ triumphant ‘yes!’ but she’s far more concerned with her own situation as she’s lifted fully clear of Ward’s cock before she can make any meaningful progress towards scaling that high and is unceremoniously dumped to sit on Ward’s lap as she pants heavily trying to regain some semblance of control over her fluttering heart.

Noooooooooooo!

Damn him! She was so close. So beautifully close. She could almost cry. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.

“Naughty,” a laughingly smug voice berates her. Phil’s laughingly smug voice. “Why I think you were almost about to ignore my orders there, May.” Damn the man. Damn him and his smug voice. Damn him and his bloody irresponsible timing and damn his stupid orders as well!

Damn him.

Her body is shaking without any real cause, she’s strung out nearly to the point of breaking. She’s exhausted. Physically and mentally. She just needs this.

“You know, between the three of us we could probably edge you for days...” Phil’s tone as he says it is kind enough but there’s no mistaking the barely veiled threat therein. His fingers lightly brush to one side the hair that’s stuck to her forehead with sweat as his eyes roam her face, checking on her, making sure she is alright with this. She knows he won’t push her too far. He will push her just far enough though. She knows that she will end up conceding, she’ll end up begging if that’s what he wants from her.

“Please, Phil,” she hears herself say. She can’t look him in the eye as she does so but it’s definitely to be classed as pleading from the tone she can’t quite modulate to blankness.

“Hmm... it’s good but it’s not quite begging. I think two more should do it. Now, are you going to behave?” Phil asks her. Two more? Two more will kill her!

“I’ll behave,” she promises, as her mind comes back to her a little once the edge has receded away and she doesn’t feel quite so rawly vulnerable. She will. She can do this, two denials is nothing. She can behave for two. So long as he lets her come after she’ll do anything he wants.

“Sure you will. If not, we’ll just keep stopping.” It’s a promise and a threat. Damn the man, he knows exactly how to work her body against her. He should have gone into torture – except she really can’t imagine him being able to cause anyone any pain. Drive them slowly insane with pleasure and denials now that he could do. At least its not just her this time he’s making suffer. Now Ward is pleading with him too. Fitz’ voice in the background to her thoughts is probably pleading for mercy or to fuck her or something as well. And when did this become about them anyway? She’s the one Phil won’t let come.

Oh wait. Reason appears to be re-entering her mind. With its partner in crime recollection. 

The Plan. 

 

“Phil, don’t you think you’re missing the point here. We’re supposed to be making Ward come not driving him and the rest of us insane!” There. She’s made a very solid rational argument as to why they should all just be allowed to come.

“Trust me, you begging and pleading to be allowed to come is doing it for all of us,” Phil replies with the kind of cocky reassurance that only overly confident Doms can really pull off.

“It’s certainly _doing it for me_ ,” says an unexpected voice from the doorway.

Enter Lorelei.

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice comments make my day :D


	7. Lorelei interferes... New Plan!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay BIG WARNING here for squicky assault and consent issues. If this will upset you or cause you to send me nasty stuff, please just don’t read it...
> 
> (And, I don’t usually cliff hanger you... but it was for your own good! See it let you feel a little of the frustration poor May must have been feeling at the time... Sorry not sorry!)

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She forces her body off Ward and into a stand quickly, spinning her arms over his head to release her wrists from the tie even as Ward chokes a little at her taking up the slack he needs to breathe. She ignores how her body complains at her as she moves into a space between the furniture to give her the room she’ll need to combat this threat. Phil echoes her movement slightly more slowly with a few groans (Yeah, tell her about it!), taking up a position just off to her left. She wonders how long Lorelei’s been there, how much she’s seen. Realises it doesn’t really matter. The important question is where is Sif?!

“Lorelei,” Phil starts. It’s a stupid thing to say – obviously it’s Lorelei.

“Where is Sif?” she demands of Lorelei but she’s simply ignored as Lorelei speaks over her.

“Bravo,” Lorelei falsely congratulates them, beaming a smile at them as she sashays further into the room, Ward at her heels and she’s left wondering when exactly he moved. “You are _most_ entertaining. You, little ice warrior, you I much prefer as this wild and passionately begging creature! Oh yes!”

“We’re not here for your entertainment, Lorelei. We’re human beings with rights of our own,” Coulson speaks up, only Coulson can come up with such ridiculous star trek crap and actually believe its going to have any effect!

 

“I’ll keep you both to play with. You can entertain me again now,” Lorelei speaks, her voice modulating almost hypnotising in its smooth candences. Phil’s over blinking she realises quickly, not focusing. Lorelei’s voice is affecting him. She takes a swift step forwards to move a little between them, drawing Lorelei’s focus back to herself in the hope that Phil takes the opportunity to move away, clear his head, block his ears or retreat or something more sensible that continue to stand listening to her.

Lorelei has stopped her advance a few meters away from them, Ward hovering silently just behind her like a leashed hound. Fitz seems confused as he hovers in place nearer to Lorelei but casting sheepish glances back in their direction. So, it’s two against two... maybe three if Fitz picks a side. Okay, two and a bit if Fitz picks a side.

She’s certain that she can take down Ward. He’s not as good as others think he is.

She’s moderately certain that she stands a chance of incapacitating Lorelei. She’s no idea what training the woman actually has but as an Asgardian she’ll at the very least have increased strength on her side. Sif hadn’t described her as a warrior... but Sif’s left a lot of things out it appears and Lorelei has managed to escape Sif somehow so there’s more than an element of doubt there.

She can take one of them... she can’t afford the risk of taking both on at once on her own. Not for long. 

The icer still lying on the floor by the bar may make all the difference... if she can get to it first. 

Ward should have clocked it as well but it’s nearest to Coulson. He’s Coulson again now. Not Phil. She needs the slight distance it gives her thoughts to separate the two. Agent Coulson is the one she needs on side right now.

She looks over at him, he seems back to normal. His eyes and the slight twitch of an eyebrow cue that he’s thinking the same. She blinks in understanding before launching forwards across the gap at Ward, aiming to use the infinitesimal advantage a little surprise might give her as she leaps intending a spinning kick to his head. She knows Coulson is moving for the gun even as she shifts but forces tracking him from her mind. If she’s taking Ward and the Asgardian on even for a short time to give Coulson the distraction he needs then she needs to concentrate fully on the fight to stand even a chance of avoiding taking a beating.

She’s forced to pull the kick off to the left as even as she leaps Ward is already moving, slipping to one side to avoid her. She lands early, slightly off balance but too close for Ward to get his guard up entirely. It’s worth sacrificing her balance to land a punch with her right fist to the side of his face simply for the pleasure it causes to pay him back a little for her earlier injuries. 

Well, it’s worth it until she’s falling forwards an unintended step to recover that balance and finds herself meeting his own fist with her stomach. She tenses as it lands but it still forces the breath from her body in a single exhalation, her body bent in half trying to compensate as she chokes around the pain. He plans a knee to her face but she throws herself backwards out of range before it can make contact, spinning away to get the distance she needs. She presses gently at her ribs, whether they’re broken or not she needs to know. Not because she’ll stop the fight, oh no, but she needs to know how much she needs to protect them as she continues. They hurt but don’t give under the slight pressure. They’ll be fine for this fight. She hasn’t the time to gather her breath, pushing herself to engage Lorelei in the fight without opening herself to a take down blow from Ward.

She moves in close to where Lorelei has yet to move from – she seems to simply be enjoying watching the chaos unfold as she stands there smiling.

The fist aimed directly at Lorelei’s head wipes the smile from her face. Lorelei’s not enjoying it so much now she’s forced to defend herself. Ward’s behind her in an instant, too quickly crossing the distance in his rush to defend Lorelei from attack. He leaves himself stupidly open as he closes in, taking a right hook to the cheek (possibly cracked, definitely bruised). She swings quickly around, a kick to the side of Lorelei’s left knee following through the momentum, hooking her foot at the last moment to catch a crucial target, pulling Lorelei off balance as her knee collapses forwards. Then she’s back around to Ward, moving in fast as he tries to step around her to catch Lorelei, support her as she falls. She grabs for his right forearm, already conveniently outstretched to catch Lorelei, turning in to his body even as she rotates his arm to give her the pressure she’ll need, an elbow to the stomach as she moves ensures he’s unable to counter her attack as she pull/shoves and sends him soaring over her head. She’s not intended the landing to be quite so fortuitous but is surprisingly pleased when he ends up flying over The Sex Sofa and through the glass behind to land heavily on his back. Yeah, that’s gonna hurt tomorrow.

She gasps in a deep breath then moves. Target: Lorelei.

Lorelei’s no longer smiling. It makes her smile in response, a minor victory. She aims a flurry of punches primarily at Lorelei’s face to wind her up, make her angry, make her reckless. Lorelei’s scowling heavily although she manages to block most. A single opportunity arises, not enough of a gap in the hurried defences to try for anything powerful as she’s rushed to strike before the opportunity disappears, she decides on an open handed slap. Insulting more than damaging.

Lorelei breaks off, backing up a few steps towards the doorway to gain herself time. She holds her cheek in the palm of her hand like it’s falling off, hatred in those stone cold brown eyes as she glares across the short distance. May settles back into her own resting stance, throws a cocky grin, as condescending as she can, enjoys the flash of anger that twists Lorelei’s features as she screams in animalistic rage, charging her.

Perfect.

She ducks the too high blows easily, swinging about to come up behind Lorelei, sending a low punch into kidneys with force. Do Asgardians have kidneys? Little matter, it seems to annoy her more than hurt as Lorelei turns about with another grunt of rage.

She can see Ward rising behind Lorelei, there’s no time for more of this, she can’t take both of them on together. She smirks deliberately, turns and runs, dashing out of the room and down the corridor with Lorelei and presumably Ward in hot pursuit. She pauses just through the doorway, slips against the wall to the side, an immature trick that would definitely fail on Ward but might just- yep, Lorelei races past in her unthinking rage. 

She chases behind her, throwing a flurry of fast, not entirely accurate or powerful, blows at her to keep her on the defensive. She’s not pushing for a take down hit right now, she simply needs to keep the two of them occupied long enough for Coulson to shoot everyone... and what the bloody hell is taking Coulson so long anyway! She ducks a blow from behind as Ward follows them through to the corridor, takes up a more side on stance in an attempt to keep both in sight. 

It’s unfortunate that the brief reprieve gives Lorelei the time to recover her form, moving from defensive to offensive even as she herself is forced to switch onto defence.

It’s close quarters fighting in the corridor, barely two meters wide, and it gives them all the advantage as they corral her in place between them, throwing punches at such a rate that she’s hard pressed to notice them all. She’s better at a distance, Ward knows this as he presses her in tighter against Lorelei’s attack. She’s better with room to spin, to kick, leap and dance away, the more athletic side of combat suits her smaller physique. She’s not a heavy hitter like the two of them are to either side of her. She’s better evading than blocking the blows, avoiding any damage however limited. 

Somewhat understandably, this is not her best work. 

It was never intended to be – the plan wasn’t to take them down. It wasn’t even to fight them for any length of time. It was merely a distraction to enable Coulson to reach the icer so that he could shoot the lot of them.

She’s struggling to evade all of the strikes sent from both sides of her, it’s nigh on impossible in so little space. She prioritises evasion of Lorelei’s slower, easily telegraphed strikes, knowing that however little training is behind those blows the force of letting them land will be far harder than anything Ward can bring to bear. 

She blocks Ward’s blows when she can’t evade, feels the hits as her forearms take the brunt of strikes, redirecting his fists away or to less crucial areas. 

But she can’t catch them all. More are landing, her body screaming out at her, an unmistakable warning to avoid more injuries. She can handle the pain from the strikes, so long as they don’t break or silicate anything then she can go on fighting. At least until Coulson... Damn it! She needs to find out what’s happened to him.

She can’t afford the inattention as she only narrowly slips a high strike from Lorelei, weaves left but takes a hit to the cheekbone from Ward’s fist. She feels the blood blossom as skin splits under his knuckles, tastes the iron in her mouth, feels the sting. She takes the risk of turning her attention to him only for an instant, blocks the follow up punch aimed for her ribs on the right, catches his arm as it passes, spinning with his momentum to turn them both, thumbs unerringly finding the pressure point on his own to drag his heavier build off balance, crashing him forwards into Lorelei so that she can retreat backwards into the common area.

She appreciates only as she re-enters the common area that both she and Coulson have made a terrible error in judgement. Discounting Fitz from the combatants’ list was foolish. He’s stood holding the icer on Coulson, his hand steady even as the rest of him shakes lightly.

“Fitz...?” she’s surprised enough to voice the question even as she skids to a stop. Surprising? It’s God damn astonishing! She couldn’t have been more shocked if Fury walked in dressed in drag and doing the hula!

Well… maybe that would be a little bit more surprising. 

But it’s a near thing.

 

She doesn’t want to spook him into taking that shot. Even if it’s only an icer, she needs Coulson conscious right now – three on one is a fight she’ll definitely lose.

“Hey! Way to go, Fitz,” Ward’s cry of delighted congratulations comes from behind her as he barrels almost into her back.

She meets Coulson’s eyes – ‘Plan?’ His infinitesimal shake of the head makes it clear he has none. She doesn’t either. Fitz is too far from Coulson for him to make a try for the icer without simply being shot. He’s certainly too far away for her to take the chance, even if she could get around the fact that Ward is now right next to her.

“Hands up, May,” Ward smugly tells her, leaning down into her face to really rub it in. She’s not raising her hands. It’s enough that she’s not hitting him currently. He shouldn’t push it. “You lose,” he smirks at her as though she’s no idea of her current circumstances. He’s an idiot. An arrogant idiot.

“I lost to Fitz, not to you Ward. Don’t be so cocky,” she tells him, meeting his eyes and returning his smirk with her own before strolling further inside the room as though she isn’t under any threat from any of them. The worst they can do right now is icer her after all.

Lorelei appears before he can come up with a comeback and all heads swivel her direction.

“Where is Sif?” she demands of Lorelei again. She needs the hope that Sif may ride to the rescue at any minute because the chances right now of she and Coulson somehow taking out the three of them are slim to none. She’s again ignored completely as Lorelei saunters across the room past Fitz towards where Phil sits pretending to be at ease.

“Now where was I? Ah yes,” Lorelei touches his arm as she speaks further, her voice modulating to soothing as she attempts to re-infect him with voice and touch. “I am impressed, son of Coul, with your performance dominating your little ice warrior. I had not imagined you’d be quite so… vigorous in your aging years. Perhaps I chose poorly,” Lorelei finishes looking over her shoulder at the slightly sulking countenance of Ward.

“We have a saying here on Earth...” She touches his arm again and his voice trails off as he comes once again under her thrall. Bloody typical – all that bloody work she’s put in and they’re back to fucking square one! 

Ha! ‘Fucking Square One’ in more ways than one!

 

She’s on her own again. One against four. It is frankly laughable odds but she’s no intention of playing the cowed prisoner.

The icer is still in Fitz’s hands. If she can get hold of it then she can take them all out and find Sif. Sort everything out later.

“Don’t do it, May,” Ward warns her, taking the few steps necessary to better position himself to intercept her if she makes a dash for Fitz. She’s certain she didn’t telegraph her intentions. Maybe he just knows her better than she’d like to think.

Ward’s words seem to have finally brought her to Lorelei’s attention as she spins, smiling and hanging off Coulson’s shoulder like a teenager. Arms wrapped around him like an octopus around its prey. She’s twice as slimy. 

“Let Coulson go,” she demands, knowing that there’s no hope in hell that she’ll do so.

Lorelei turns her attention back to Phil pointedly, “You seek to place a claim on this one? To take him from us?” She’s just going to ignore the adoring look in Coulson’s eyes as he smiles almost shyly at Lorelei. Yep, she’s going to ignore it.

“The two of you were most entertaining, little warrior. I will still let you enjoy him... for a time,” Lorelei smiles back at her, a touch of evil crossing a face that could otherwise be beautiful. A face Coulson is still smiling adoringly at whilst they’re threatened with slavery. She reminds herself again that it’s not his fault. He’s under the effects of a pollen type substance. He can’t control the- SHE’S GOING TO BLOODY WELL KILL HIM! He should not be enjoying himself when she kisses him! That’s just... just bleurgh. He should at least try to dodge her ... or make some kind of complaint instead of all those ridiculous... little sexy moans and- GODS DAMNIT PHIL!

“Alright, enough with the stage show. What do you want?” she’s got to interrupt it at some point. If she doesn’t stop the images polluting her brain then she’s going to go crazy. Lorelei doesn’t appear at all inclined to break off her kissing and petting however despite her words.

She makes a decision that is probably not tactically sound. Okay, so it’s really not tactically sound. At all. 

But she’d rather be icered than watch any more of this.

She runs for it. She takes a chance that Fitz will be slow to aim on a moving target, takes the chance that Ward will be prepared for her to dash towards Fitz for the gun rather than away from them all back into the corridor, takes the chance that Coulson will not know her plan before she thinks of it... well he is slightly distracted by the succubus’ tongue down his throat! Eurgh!

It’s a chance that doesn’t pay off as she’s knocked sideways by Ward’s tackle, crashing into the wall, her arms complaining as they take most of the force of the impact. She kicks backwards, trying to sweep his legs out from under him but he’s more prepared than she hopes, side stepping and forcing her back against the wall. He has the time to grab for her arms, wrestling them behind her back with his superior strength even as he keeps her pinned. He’s not gentle as he crushes her palms to her lower back, leaning his weight against them to hold her in place as he leans his upper body back out of range of the headbutt that was next on her list. She struggles futilely as her ribs scream at her, appreciating that she’s pinned but not willing to concede that fact outwardly.

She stops struggling quite so obviously as she hears Lorelei’s approach across the carpet. “You are most entertaining!” Lorelei declares enthusiastically. She doesn’t want to be fucking entertaining! She wants to be free to smack the bitch upside her smugly smirking face. That’ll be entertaining. 

Lorelei ducks her head down low, cheek pressed against the wall, echoing her own enforced position, as she smirks a grin that promises nothing good whilst hard eyes burrow into her own. Howsoever bimbo like she may appear on the surface, however she may play act the joyful childlike character, this woman is dangerous. Deadly, the blunt slate of her eyes confirm. A snake coiled seemingly little threat until the slightest nick of teeth, the lightest press of venom, confirms its deadly nature. She’s holding her breath as well as that gaze as the tension rackets between them in the silence. She doesn’t even realise she’s not breathing or blinking until her eyes are wavering at the edges. Then she inhales, the moment broken. Lorelei issues a chirping blip of a laugh, moving to draw away. She’s almost angry with herself for giving in to that tension, for letting Lorelei know just how easily she’s getting to her.

She regulates her breathing deliberately, concentrates on breathing it in and out steadily, an approximation of normal as she tries to slow her racing heart. Keep normal reactions, don’t over blink or over stare, remain calm and in control. She glares again once she’s in control, looks up to find Lorelei watching her face a little too intently, a little too perceptive.

“You are a delight! You I will most certainly keep. You will provide me with much entertainment, little warrior,” Lorelei threatens in a whisper that detracts nothing from the threat.

“Don’t count on it,” she retorts, concealing the fear that fills her veins as the threat she knows Lorelei is more than capable of carrying out with the others on her side behind bravado. It’s hard to ignore the pain that Ward causes her at that response, leaning more weight against her crushed hands and what must be at least bruised ribs in retribution.

“What was your plan, little warrior?” and yes, that nickname is already starting to get on her last nerve. “Did you think to take them from us? Did you think you could? Just you alone? All three of these men?” Lorelei’s laughing at her but at least she’s moved away to the centre of the room flamboyantly gesturing as she makes her presentation more for the benefit of the others then her. It removes the immediacy of the threat, lessens the tension in the room. “You are so tiny.” It’s that last one that really riles her as Lorelei laughs down at her, all but patting her on the head.

“At least I don’t need to drug them into sleeping with me.” Yeah, it’s stupid. She’s blaming the fact that her body aches and she’s still pinned naked against the wall of her own plane (Okay, the paperwork says its Coulson’s plane but really... its hers.) It’s most certainly not the fact that she forced a kiss on Phil... nope. That’s definitely not what has her saying stupid things to insult the crazy bitch.

“You beg so prettily,” Lorelei counters with a snarl charging in closer again and despite herself she can feel the embarrassment at that. As much as her conscious mind can reason that there is nothing wrong with begging in what should have been a private situation for everyone’s pleasure, there’s still a niggling doubting thought that tells her that she should be ashamed of it. She’s broken the glare she was maintaining as her thoughts cast her eyes downwards. “I think... I would like to hear you beg again,” Lorelei declares in a threatening whisper before stepping back away. 

“Hurt her,” is all Lorelei instructs and there’s not even the slightest hesitation from her teammate as his grip shifts, the popping stretch of her littlest finger dislocating making her gulp back down the sick feeling that accompanies the unexpectedly blinding pain. She can hear herself scream out the pain with an almost clinical detachment as she directs her mind to focus on the physical ramifications of the injury, to apply itself directly to the exact angle and force she’ll need to position the joint back into place. It’s a blessing in some ways – the dislocation will be more painful to manage than a break sure but it’ll heal far swifter... and its only one finger.

As soon as she thinks that she wishes she hadn’t. 

She’s many more fingers available and far more areas after that.

She’s actually surprised that he hasn’t taken the next one yet but her mind recalls he’s advanced interrogation training. Bastard. He’s waiting for her to recover, waiting for her mind to focus around the pain, for her attention to be wholly on him when he causes more pain. He wants her to feel its full effects, no hiding away deep in her own thoughts, riding the tide of pain as it increases, floating atop the surface of each ever increasing wave, the depth below her immaterial whilst ever she can float.

There’s little point in delaying the inevitable. Only greater risk. The longer this takes to play out, the longer it takes for her to find an opportunity to escape, the more time they have to arrive at wherever Ward is taking them. She’s almost certain that no good will come of that. They need to contain Lorelei here, now. She’s too dangerous to be let loose on an unsuspecting population.

“What are you waiting for Ward, an invitat-” she starts but is interrupted by her own chocked off scream as he takes her ring finger in hand, pulling steadily until the bones grate against one another, her body screaming at her as he draws out the movement, dragging incrementally further as she holds her breath to stop from screaming. She’s whining, keening almost silently but she knows he can hear as he pulls abruptly harder, the release as her joints give is almost blissful even as the intense pain hits her hard. She can breathe through it, gasping sobbing breaths, chest heaving against the wall where she’s pinned almost unable to suck in the oxygen she needs against the pressure of him crushing her in place.

It’s crude. She tries to rationalise. To look at this from an outside observer’s perspective. To distance herself from both the pain and the anticipation of more pain, the fear that goes hand in hand. So, it’s crude. Both his technique and the execution. He’s obviously not thinking rationally, simply carrying out Lorelei’s instructions in the swiftest and most direct manner. If he’d been thinking then he’d have tied her first, made her completely devoid of hope of escape, then played the pain card, worked her over steadily, played more mind games than this simple abrupt pain. But instead he’s simply carrying out her orders. ‘Hurt her’ and he does. He doesn’t even seem to think of hurting her more intensely, targeting a more crucial area to cause more damage or even more pain. Lorelei says, Ward does. Simplistic. 

Crude.

Effective? Oh yeah, little bit too effective.

 

“I thought you liked her begging, my lady?” its Coulson – bless him! She needs the break that even a little of his rambling conversation will give her as well as the short distraction he might offer enabling her to slip Ward if ever his grasp upon her lessens sufficiently.

“Yes, make her beg,” Lorelei instructs Ward almost immediately and she’s cursing the fact that Coulson’s ramblings were so short and have led to more detailed instructions for Ward to basically torture her into begging. He’ll be much less crude if he’s trying to make her beg rather than just hurt her.

“Wait!” She’s back to blessing Coulson as her thoughts seesaw out of her direct control, the breath she had unconsciously been holding waiting for the anticipated pain to strike let out slowly so as not to draw attention to the fact that she had reacted so fearfully. “Hurting her won’t make her beg,” Coulson continues. He’s right. So far as he goes. She’s not going to beg. Not if Ward dislocates every joint in her body. Not if he moves on to break every bone.

“I’ve advanced interrogation training,” Ward states a little too defensively, clueing them all in to his inadequacy issues. Maybe Phil’s little show and tell session earlier has upset his usual balanced mindset or maybe its the involvement of Lorelei as catalyst. Either way, she’s unimpressed that someone apparently so highly rated in espionage is giving away his thoughts so easily. Well that and it gives her mind something more to think on than the likely hurt to come.

“And she’s advanced resistance training,” Coulson counters casually. “It’d be interesting to see who’d win out overall.” Interesting is not the word she’d use right now. It’s certainly not confidence inspiring that Coulson’s talking about her like she’s an object of interest only, she had hoped that he’d retain a little more of himself even whilst under Lorelei’s drugged state. He’d been better earlier. She’s certain she hadn’t imagined it. “But even you’ve got to admit, Ward, that it’d take weeks, probably months even, for you to break her down to begging,” Coulson’s coaxing, unthreatening tone makes him seem completely reasonable. She’s starting to sense a plan at work behind all this, beginning to hope that maybe, just maybe, there is something of her Coulson in there still at work to get her out of this situation. “This is The Melinda May, Ward.” She’s never heard her name so entitled before. She’d thought for a moment that he was going to use her hated nickname, to remind her of that time... she interrupts the thought deliberately. He didn’t and she isn’t reminded. That’s it. “She’s not going to break to a few dislocated fingers or unthought out injuries,” Coulson continues and she can feel that he’s getting to Ward from the way his weight shifts against her, turning so that his right hip holds her pressed against the wall rather than his full body. She stays still, keeps her muscles deliberately relaxed hoping for more. “It’ll take you months to break her.”

“I don’t want to wait months!” Lorelei’s petulant voice near screeches at them. “I want her to beg. NOW!”

“I can do that,” Coulson promises Lorelei and she wishes she could turn her head far enough to see him to give him a glare as she damns him all to hell as Ward’s grip upon her immediately tenses as the threat of her being taken from him, being handed over to someone more capable. 

She knows she’s too late even as she moves – she should have taken the limited opportunity whilst it was on offer even if he was still too well positioned, she berates herself. She manages to pull one wrist free of his grasp, he really should have moved to holding her wrists back in two hands whilst he was distracted by the conversation, rams the elbow directly back hard, as hard as she can. Their height difference means she doesn’t need to compensate her aim downwards to hit his solar plexus, she can use the full force of the swing into his abdomen to wind him. He staggers back a pace as he inhales and she moves back with him, hoping to- but it’s too late as he’s driving her back against the wall. She manages to bring a knee up in time, right foot hitting the wall to let her push them back off it, unbalancing him as she leaves him holding all of their combined weight as she shunts back as hard as she can. She’s no control over how or where they’ll land but she hopes that she overbalances him into tripping so that she can land upon him, dig elbows into more fleshy targets, take advantage as he seeks to recover. She almost smiles as he trips, the two of them going over backwards, but the gradually spreading smirk of her lips is halted as he twists his upper body, turning them mid-fall so that she takes the brunt. Face down she hits the carpet, his larger form crushing her into it as she struggles to drag breath into compressed lungs underneath his weight. She’s momentarily stunned, which gives him all the time he needs to straddle her dazed form, recapture her free wrist, drag it to the centre of her lower back and hold it painfully pressed in place against her injured fingers.

Less than ideal, she thinks the understatement with morbid humour as she deliberately ignores the peals of girlish laughter that can only be coming from Lorelei.

 

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“roll her over,” she hears Coulson order as he nears. She can hear other, lighter treads closing in behind her head too. Seems everyone wants a closer look at whatever tortures Coulson is planning for her. She doesn’t want to think how this might turn out. 

“We’d best tie her wrists first or she’ll try an escape as soon as I leave off the pressure,” Ward states with almost professional detachment. It’s true, she will. What he’s left out is that she’ll be trying anyway as soon as they move to tie her wrists. He can’t hold them both in place securely enough if he wants to bind anything around them.

She watches as Fitz’s feet come to rest just in front of her face, he’s obviously intending to assist them in repositioning her. She’s probably got the leeway to move her head that inch or so, to bite down hard and take a chunk out of him... but it’s Fitz. He’s hardly the threat here and she doesn’t really want to cause him any injury. Coulson and Ward unfortunately aren’t so foolish as to stand within range. 

“Make her cry for me. I want to hear her beg,” Lorelei goads them, taking up a seat on the chair over her and making herself quite comfortable, legs crossed, a picture of pristine royalty watching an entertaining show whilst she’s wrestled to the floor the complete opposite - naked, sweat covered, battered and bruised. Evil bitch! She’s no intention of crying. It’ll take a hell of a lot more than a beating to make her beg.

Three on one doesn’t bode well for this, especially three she can’t really injure permanently. She gives it a good try despite the grip Ward already has on her wrists and the odds stacked against her. She manages to get in a kick to Ward’s knee, not hard enough to pop it unfortunately. Catches Phil in the head twice, glancing blows only damn it. She pulls out of several hits to Fitz, he just seems to know how to get himself in completely the wrong places poor kid. If it’d been Coulson or Ward in his place, she’d have let them land with gusto, but there’s no advantage to hitting Fitz. 

“Stop struggling, May,” Coulson tells her between breaths as he wrestles with her right leg, as though she’s just going to do as he says! “You know this can only go one of two ways. Lorelei wants to hear you beg. I’d much rather you did so from pleasure than pain, wouldn’t you?” Oh so reasonable! Of course then she’ll just give up and co-operate with the tying her down! What woman wouldn’t want to be raped by her best friend under the influence of Asgardian mind whammy?!

“Fuck off, Phil,” is her succinct response. 

“In a minute, busy right now,” he manages to force out between gritted teeth as he finally gets her leg down flat against the floor, pressing hard on her knee to keep it straight and held down in place. Ward already has her other pinned, has done for some time. Her wrists bound underneath her with that damned silk tie make her want to ram it down Phil’s throat – if he ever EVER wears a tie again she’s going to choke him with it!

He sits up looking down at her as he breathes deeply to recover lost breath. He’s considering her for a moment intently. Planning. Damn it! He always has good plans. 

She glares up at him - it’s all the power they’ve left her with every limb now pinned.

“So, I’m thinking we have several options here...” and damn him if he isn’t kneeling up on her leg to count them off on his fingers like it’s some bizarre presentation he’s giving naked whilst pinning her on the ground, similarly naked surrounded by naked teammates and watched over by an evil Asgardian succubus! “We could go with another round of sex, that one gets my vote by the way, but it could be a while before you’re crying and begging, you know how difficult you can be... Or I could fuck your ass, that’ll make you cry pretty quickly but probably not much on the begging side of things eh?... Of course we could just edge you some more, that always gets you begging but then we’d be down on the crying?... Hmmm... It is a tricky one. You’re so damn stubborn sometimes. Wouldn’t you rather just cry and beg for Lorelei now?” he asks almost hopefully. He’s insane. Scratch that. The whole damn lot of them are insane. She’s ranting furiously inside her own head. She knows rationally that its panic setting in. They have the power. She’s no escape. But she’s damned if she’s going to let the fear show through!

“I don’t want to have to hurt you, May...” that’s lovely. She’d doesn’t want him to hurt her either. But, well, if it is a choice between rape and a beating then she’ll bloody well take the beating every damn time! 

“Ah ha! I know how best to make you beg and cry,” the grin he levels at her is fabulously naughty and under normal circumstances, like not about to be half raped by your best friend on the orders of an Asgardian succubus, in fact under almost any other circumstances, she’s sure that whatever he’s planned would lead to many amazing orgasms. Unfortunately, the circumstances are what they are. “Grab this leg for me, Fitz, I’m going to need each of you holding her down for this.” That really doesn’t bode well for her.

 

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She’s crying and begging. Screaming between gasps. Sobbing loudly, wetly as tears leak from her eyes unchecked and her nose runs disgustingly as she tries to inhale it clear. She’s pleading with him to stop. Begging uncontrollably as he takes advantage of her body’s weakness. A weakness only he and one other know about her body. The trust she placed in him is used against her now as he plays her body against her. “Phil... please... stop... p-please... I can’t... stop... Phil... Phil...” He doesn’t seem to listen as his assault on her body continues without mercy. She can hear Lorelei’s rippling peals of laughter in the background as she suffers. She squirms all she’s able, writhing on the floor in an attempt to avoid him but she’s unable to cease or block his attack pinned as she is by their heavier weights. She can even hear Ward’s subtle half choked off guffaws as he laughs at her futile struggles but she can’t stop her body responding as Coulson continues to use its reactions to him against her. 

She’s unable to catch her breath, every limited gasp forced out of her too soon by his too talented fingers as they run teasingly up and down her squirming sides. She’s never EVER letting anyone else know that she’s ticklish. Not ever!

An “Oh God” may well have escaped her on an exhalation as he quickly picks up the pace, laughing down at her captured form as he enjoys himself making her giggle uncontrollably between sobbing gasping breaths. She’s only really aware it passed her lips from Lorelei reaching down and grabbing her chin to redirect her gaze, stating sternly “I am your Godd _ess!_ ”

Then it’s gone, his fingers removed from her body finally leaving her blessedly alone to pant and gag and try to recover a semblance of the control she’s lost. 

She can hear Lorelei berating Coulson in the background of her gasping, she’s not entirely sure why. She’s not entirely sure she cares. Her mind comes back into focus as Phil assumes hold of her leg from Ward and Ward moves backwards to make room for Lorelei to kneel next to her, her fingers trailing delicately over her stomach as though stroking a pet. 

“You will beg _me_ this time,” Lorelei tells her with a condescending smile before those same gentle fingers pinch down hard on her left nipple without warning. Without apology. Squeezing vicelike as she holds her body tensely in place, refuses to give her the reaction she seeks. Torture she can do, pain she can deal, rise above. She won’t let it affect her.

Until Lorelei twists it harshly and then her body’s no longer under her own control arching up in an attempt to relive the pressure as a cut off scream escapes her throat. Lorelei simply smiles down at her as she lets go.

“You are stubborn. A true challenge worthy of a Goddess. I could have so much fun playing with you… You are honoured by my selection, I so rarely take a woman to my bed.” Honoured her ass! And what in the name of all that’s Holy does Phil think he’s doing just stepping to one side for Lorelei after all his chest beating caveman possessiveness for the past few hours?!?

She’s angry again. It’s far preferable to being afraid.

Lorelei leans down over to kiss her, interrupting her train of thought. She tries turning her head away but her head is grabbed and held fast in place. She’s reminded immediately that the woman is Asgardian and far stronger than her as hands close down against her cheeks with almost bruising force. 

If Lorelei tries to force a kiss then she’s going to lose a tongue, she threatens internally to make herself feel better about the enforced helplessness. She almost lets herself smile at that thought. It would be one way to stop her speaking… 

Change of plan - she lets her head be held in place deliberately licking her lips to entice Lorelei further. The lips are soft when they meet her own, smooth and warm, far gentler than she’d imagined Lorelei would be as she moves them over her own, suckling and teasing delicately, seducing her into responding. She gasps, parting her lips in desire that’s not entirely feigned. She lets her tongue sneak out to meet Lorelei’s, to tempt her into kissing her more deeply, to lead her into a trap of teeth.

“LORELEI!” comes Sif’s sudden shout as she charges through the doorway sword a swinging. Saved by the bell – er Asgardian’s battle cry!

She’s pretty much moved from the centre of everyone’s attention to being forgotten as Lorelei turns tail, scrabbling to her knees then feet and runs for the opposite door, Sif chasing directly on her tail. The men follow, scrambling to their feet clearly intent upon joining the chase in a comedy sketch type scene. 

She sighs. 

Heavily. 

Much as she’d like to just collapse on the floor for a few minutes in peace to re-centre herself, she can’t let them all leave and go after Sif. There was a plan at some point that she was trying to carry out.

“Stop, guys... You need to fuck me,” if she sounds more tired than desiring then that’s their issue to deal with. She’s far too exhausted to put anything more into this plan.

 

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Seems her lack of enthusiasm matters little to any of the three as they all slide to a halt, pivot in place to look back at her with hungry expressions. Yep, time for plan… D is it now? She moves to sit up rather than continue to lay sprawled out across the floor and all three are moving rapidly towards her before she can even think of struggling more than out of the tie binding her wrists – that tie is going to be useless from now on. Oh God! What if he wears it again to remind her of all of this?! He’d probably wear it to a meeting with Fury and she’ll be standing there trying not to replay every little arousing moment whilst they talk serious business. Or, oh dear Lord, what if he wears it in front of Hill?! She’ll pick up on everything! And then she’ll torment her mercilessly until she has the whole story...

Phil stops the other two advancing with outstretched arms to their chests and it draws her mind back into the present. Oh so back to being a possessive bastard are we, Phil, now that dearest Lorelei has turned tail and scarpered? 

He makes eye contact with Fitz first, the lesser challenge “she’s mine.” Fitz nods quickly repeatedly, moving a step backwards in retreat as though the nod alone might be insufficient. 

She knows what’s coming even as she knows that she can’t get up or to them in time to do anything to stop the likely fight to come. Phil turns his head right to look directly up at Ward, who bristles back even as Phil makes clear his demand. “You know that she’s mine,” he says with a snarl. 

She’s pulling her fingers back into place with a grimace too quickly, struggling to her hands and knees, an arm wrapped around her (at least) bruised ribs trying to offer some limited support as she attempts to force her aching body up to her feet. Ward has backed into a space, hands stretched out to either side, palms empty in a gesture meaning no harm but his smile gives him away as much as the intensity of his gaze. He’s apparently no intention of backing down when he feels he has the advantage – younger, stronger, better trained, certainly not as exhausted as Phil must be by now. Damn it! She doesn’t need this fight between the two of them. She needs to get them cured and get after Lorelei now that it appears that Sif alone cannot easily take her out – Sif should really give her more information in the future if she’s to be able to come up with a workable plan that might actually succeed!

The tension in the air as the two of them square up confirms that Phil is not as much a fool as he’d have Ward believe from his casual uninterested seeming stance. She knows that underneath it all he’s ready for the attack, he’s simply trying to play for the advantage that Ward’s overconfidence will no doubt give him. She’s made it to her feet – a miracle in and of itself – before Ward launches his attack and her mind throws itself into the computations of which of the two of them she should attempt to incapacitate to bring the fight to a halt when both stagger to an abrupt halt, hands raised.

Fitz!

That conniving little genius of a scientist!

His shaking hand holding the reclaimed icer at the pair of them seems a god send right up until he focuses squarely on Phil with a sudden steadiness that confirms he’s made the decision to shoot. “Fitz, stop!” is out of her mouth almost before she can think to speak and his finger jerks away from the trigger, confused eyes reaching for her own even as the weapon stays pointed on Phil, covering Ward by his close proximity.

“But if I shoot him then we can have sex,” Fitz explains with a smile that wouldn’t be out of place on a Cheshire cat. Oh how she really doesn’t need Fitz shooting Coulson right now. Even if it is just an icer, she really needs to be getting them all cured ASAP so that she can follow Sif and assist in the capture of Lorelei. She can’t cure them if one’s unconscious.”A-and then he can’t hurt you anymore,” he continues into the pause she leaves when she doesn’t answer. It’s sweet if a little naive... and condescending. Ignoring the most recent happenings (of which Fitz was a fully participating individual pinning her leg down – hypocrite!) she’s more than capable of protecting herself from any of the three of them. Alright, so Ward might be a challenge on occasion, especially as battered as she is currently, but she can still take him.

“You’d have to shoot Ward too if you want her to yourself,” Phil reasonably points out as she apparently again fails to respond in time before someone else is talking. She gives him a pointed look – now is not the time for him to still be fighting with Ward, he should be calming Fitz down not suggesting alternative targets-

“Okay,” Fitz agrees with a shrug and the flash of blue light half blinds her even as Ward slumps down to the ground. 

“FITZ!” she hears her own voice in stereo as Phil apparently echoes her cry.

“What?” Fitz asks as though entirely unconcerned with the fact that he’s just shot a teammate. “It’s just an icer, he’ll be fine.” She looks again at Phil, pointedly. He is the better one with words. He should be the one talking Fitz off the metaphorical ledge.

“Fitz...” Phil says with an almost fatherly smile, stepping cautiously closer. It’s a good start. “Why don’t we both have sex with May?” he continues. It’s not a great finish! The icer comes up to focus directly upon his chest again, halting his progress towards Fitz immediately.

“Be-because you’re always taking over. You exclude me. A-and then you’re mean to her!” Well... he’s not entirely wrong on any of those facts! Banning her from coming the last time was more than a little mean and she’s not entirely sure that she’ll forgive him for that little gem of an idea any time soon. Though she’s fairly certain that Fitz means the bites and the bruises more than the denial thereafter.

Phil turns half way towards her, shrugging helplessly – he’s nothing, it’s her problem to sort out. She really doesn’t want to have to explain, to Fitz of all people, her predilection for a little power exchange play. Make that she really really doesn’t.

She can hear light footsteps in the corridor behind her, interrupting her thinking even as she gives no outward indication. They’re irregular, hesitant almost. It’s as though their owner is trying to sneak unobtrusively but has absolutely no training on how to more silently across carpeted flooring.

She sighs, locks eyes with Fitz and shrugs.

“Okay, shoot him.”

 

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	8. This will be the last damned plan!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is a long one - aren't I nice to you?

This will be the last plan!

 

The image of Phil’s surprised expression, the hurt in his face at her unexpected betrayal, is indelibly etched into her psyche surrounded by the blue light that confirms Fitz has fired. Her eyes close briefly against her will in a moment of absolute remorse – for everything! Her betrayals innumerable. Only this small one does he have knowledge of and it’s enough to pin her with that look the moments before his body collapses down to the floor.

She inhales rapidly, there’s no time for this self-pity!

She forces a smile to stretch her lips. She can’t make it reach the rest of her expression but it’ll do for Fitz for the moment. The light shuffling steps in the corridor have paused, likely at the sound of the icer shots, but she’s little hope that they’ll remain stationary for long.

She forces herself to walk casually over into his body space, tilting her head up slightly reaching to press a chaste kiss to his own surprised lips, intending to distract as her hands remove the icer from his now lax grip. Her arms wrap up around his shoulders, curling about the base of his neck, positioning the icer to shoot even as her lips move softly over his own. His hands find their way to her waist, holding her firmly in place as his lips suddenly come alive upon her own, brushing lightly, pressing and teasing, retreating away out of reach as she responds. She whines quietly as he torments her but its only for a moment and as he dives back down, taking her lips suddenly forceful, demanding her surrender with tongue and lips and teeth. She gasps at the change up to light violence and its all the advantages he needs to press forwards, tongue meeting her own to dance hot and wet, exploring and playing with her as they both gasp heavily against the other’s lips. She’s arching up against him as his hands drag her in closer, pressing her pelvis needily against his hot length seeking more contact, her breasts rubbing across his lightly haired chest eliciting a shuddering moan from deep in her chest. This gentle steady seduction is exactly what her bruised body desires right now. Her body insists upon it as her hips begin to rock of their own volition, rubbing against his cock as his fingers dig into her waist, driving her on, urging her up higher against him. Her arms are wrapping themselves more determinedly around the back of his neck, seeking the ideal position for her to lift herself higher, to let him hold her so that she can wrap her legs around him and ride him properly. It’s the unwieldy feeling of the icer in one hand getting in the way of her hands clasping as she intends that awakens her mind, re-focusing it slightly from the pleasurable haze she was allowing herself to get caught up in.

There’s a reason she can’t have sex with Fitz right now.

Another step and that reason will be pretty much standing in the open doorway watching her attempt to climb onto Fitz cock and that’s really not going to be okay.

Her mind has a moment of wondering whether she should just open an invitation, surely two’s better than one in situations like these? Between them they could drive Fitz wild. He deserves that much, she thinks, after all he’s been through already and all he’s tried to protect her in his sweetly naive way. But with the pheromones playing havoc on his physiology even with two of them it could be too long before they can drive him to orgasm. She can’t risk the others awakening, she won’t risk anyone other than herself in this task. 

Fitz certainly doesn’t deserve to suffer the headache that he’ll wake to as she calmly repositions the icer and shoots it into his back. She has to prioritise. She catches him as he slumps, assisting in him more gently to the floor. 

She smiles down at him and finds its rooted in genuine fondness for the guy. If only she didn’t already have enough issues to deal with with Phil and Ward then she’d certainly be tempted to start something up between them. Assuming he was interested and wasn’t still pining after a certain biochemist or hacktivist. Which, thinking of...

“Simmons,” she states to the open doorway. It’s not a question, there’s no one else on the plane who would sneak so obviously badly other than Fitz who is already in sight. The answering gasp tells her she’s guessed correctly. It appears that Simmons needs a moment to gather her courage as she takes a few moments before striding through the open doorway portraying a confidence she obviously doesn’t feel. Faked confidence or not, it appears Simmons still can’t meet her eyes as her head stays foolishly averted deliberately not looking at her. She’s naked, yes. Get over it already.

“Why are you out of the Cage? I said to stay put until I came to get you,” she starts, already pretty much knowing the answer.

“Skye was worried.” Of course she was, bloody Skye! Skye had probably also threatened to come out here herself, injured, and used the idea to blackmail Simmons into venturing out in her place. “And it had been so long that she, well... we thought that maybe there was a problem and that you needed help,” Simmons finishes in her typically nervous rush to babble. 

“I have everything under control,” she says. Nope, she’s not entirely sure that she does either but Simmons is a very poor liar so she’s unlikely to be able to pick up on others’ lies even such bold faced ones. Okay the questioning glance down at their three unconscious teammates says maybe Simmons has an idea that she might be stretching the truth a little. “I need you back in the Cage with Skye. Lorelei is uncollared again and very much a danger to all of us.” Her mind is thinking rapidly, trying to come up with a quick plan that will satisfy Simmons sufficiently that she’ll retreat to the safety of the Cage. She will not have Simmons put in the same position she found herself in only moments ago. She quite simply will not allow it. 

She marches straight towards Simmons with that very thought, taking her arm and more or less forcibly guiding her back down the corridor towards the Cage door panel, ignoring her own condition. She presses her palm to the scanner as Simmons babbles at her about how she could assist and how she shouldn’t be out there alone to deal with this. She’s a specialist. She works alone and she gets things done. She stands to one side of the doorway, out of sight as it opens and pushes Simmons back inside with a final order to _stay put_. She prays it’ll be sufficient. Then she decides prayer insufficient against Skye’s ability to convince Simmons to disobey orders and recodes the door lock to her personal clearance only. They’re safer inside. Even if she’s taken down, they’re safer locked out of reach.

Right. Plan.

Time is not on her side. She has maybe twenty minutes tops until Ward at least starts to come around from the effects of the icer. It’s better to assume less, work to fifteen. She has who knows how much time left to get the three of them cured before the plane reaches whatever destination Ward has set. 

Wait. Her feet are moving in a run towards the cockpit even as her mind catches up with the thought – Lorelei ran away from the cockpit down towards the garage and lab. Ward is incapacitated so it should be empty. She can retake control of the plane, reset its heading to a Shield base for back up. No, to an isolated area. It’s safer. She can’t expose those at a Shield HQ to Lorelei, as much as the back up of trained female operatives would be ideal she can’t risk exposing the men at those locations to Lorelei’s control. Most Shield bases are predominantly staffed by male agents, however well trained both sexes are the numbers are going to win out. It’s not worth the risk. She swings through the door of the cockpit, locking it manually from the inside just in case before flowing into her chair and bringing up the HUD. 

Avengers Tower? Wow, Ward really does have ambition. She’d thought maybe the Triskelian would be his destination – an army of well trained male agents to take over the planet... but attempting to corrupt one or all of the Avengers certainly would make world domination easier. Assuming he manages to get past Natasha to actually reach any of the others. He’d have been better picking a closer target than one half way around the world though (or killing her and Sif off earlier) but she’s not going to complain when his over confidence lends her the advantage. They’re stuck flying over water for at least the next three hours now no matter the heading any of them program in. It gives her much needed time even as she swings the plane suddenly about. The plane’s mid-flight manoeuvrability never fails to bring a smile to her lips. This plane is a work of art. It’s a true honour to pilot.

But she still has a few more tasks to deal with before the men reawaken – number one on the list ensure the recapture and re-collaring of Lorelei. She’s not putting in all that work again to free one of the men only for Lorelei to whisper sickly nothings in their ear and be back to square one again. Sif has left her out of the need to know information too many times now for her not to be concerned about Lorelei’s actual fighting abilities and whether Sif is actually able to take her down alone. She’s already obviously failed twice now. 

Wonder if icers work on Asgardians...

 

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She snatches up the overly used handcuffs from almost under the sofa (Yes, that sofa) as she passes quickly through the common room, taking note that all three remain where they fell (not that she thought them likely to have moved).

She can hear the unmistakable clash of metal upon metal coupled with insults and sounds of exertion, following the sounds until she reaches the garage. Coulson is not going to be happy when he finds out just how close to Lola those two are swinging swords! She takes up position on the balcony above, using the convenient railing to steady her aim but it’s difficult to get a clear shot as the two spin about one another, coming in too close as they clash before spinning away again. It would be a pleasure to watch them spar under different circumstances, they clearly are both quite well trained in fighting with a longsword. She’d like to have the opportunity to learn a little... She shoots anyway. Repeatedly. Hits Sif unfortunately with the first bullet, but the third and fourth both take Lorelei high in the back as her momentum carries her into the line of fire and she corrects her aim. Then she’s out and both Asgardians are staggering. They drop more gradually than human targets but they do thankfully drop, eyes closing and swords falling with a racket on the metal ramp.

She wastes no more time, jogging down the stairs, approaching Lorelei’s position with a little caution, kicking the sword away under Lola (thanks Lola!) before bending down to roll her onto her front, efficiently securing Lorelei’s wrists in the extended link cuffs behind her back.

Now she can breathe more freely.

Those cuffs are an absolute nightmare to get out of. It should hold true even for an Asgardian. She checks cursorily on Sif, she’s still breathing, has a good rhythmic pulse, she’ll be fine.

Time to sort out the boys. This time she’s got a better plan.

Plan 4.

It will be the last damn plan.

 

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No longer working to quite such a tight time frame she takes a little more time walking back upstairs into the common room. She’s quite surprised at the sheer mess they’ve made fighting and the level of damage caused. Maybe they should stop reinstating the glass panels, they only ever get broken when there’s a fight on board. 

She starts with Coulson, dragging him by his arms to the Sex Sofa, propping him half sitting and pretty much wrestling him up until he’s seated on it. Fitz is easier to move with his lighter frame and she props him upright against Coulson’s shoulder when he starts sliding off to the left. She has a moment of considering whether to pose the lot of them embarrassingly but it’s only a passing fancy – it’s not their fault that they’re compromised, the embarrassment of recollecting their actions today will be more than enough without her adding to it. It’d just be petty. She drags Ward over but can’t summon the energy to lift his bulk onto the sofa. She leaves him sitting on the floor, back propped against the sofa cushion. It’s close enough. It puts them all in a stationary position that’ll encourage them not to try anything, keeps them away from her so that she can make her demands clear once they come around.

She’s the time to grab a quick drink from the bar before Ward’s breath hitches in the beginning stirrings of awakening before he feigns a regular pattern, maintains the illusion of unconsciousness. She’s no intention of calling him on it. She doesn’t need him awake until the others are- and it seems Fitz and Coulson aren’t far behind from the twitching facial muscles and slight groans.

She moves to stand before them, icer held casually covering them all as a physical barrier between them. They will do things her way this time. Blinking eyes look up, squinting under what is likely to be a too harsh light for their recently icer-ed heads to cope with.

“Good, you’re all awake,” she declares briskly, noting that Ward opens his eyes only after she’s spoken. “Here's what's going to happen… You are all going to fuck me. You are not going to fight over it. You are going to share. We are all going to have a great many orgasms. Anyone disagrees, anyone refuses to co-operate, anyone tries to take charge I am icer-ing them and they simply won't get to fuck me.” She lays down the law, she’s not taking prisoners this time. She’s certainly not having them fighting. This ends now. Plan 4 is the final solution.

Turns out it is simply a matter of mathematics, she thinks drolly. She was just using the wrong equation! Three men, three cocks, three holes. Perfect mathematics!

 

“Ward, you get my pussy. Fitz my mouth. Phil my ass. There will be no arguing, no fighting and no changing places.”

“So, is everyone on board with the plan or do I start shooting?” she asks with a glare they should be very afraid of right now. Yeah, standing butt naked bruised and battered over them holding a steadily aimed weapon (much as she knows it’s empty and useless) is probably a pretty intimidating sight in and of itself.

Fitz is the first to respond with an almost yelped ‘yes’ but its soon followed by Ward’s nodded confirmation. 

“Trying to take control, May?” Phil asks her on a half laugh.

“Do you want to fuck my ass or not, Phil, because I am not offering twice?” She’s ignoring the blatant fact that she has in actuality just offered twice!

“I didn’t say that,” he concedes quickly.

“Ward, you’re up,” she instructs, moving to place the icer back on the bar out of reach of everyone and gesturing at the floor for him to lie down. They’re doing this her way this time.

Phil starts to interrupt, no doubt to question why Ward gets to go first but she glares at him before he makes it to the second syllable. He mimes turning key in front of his lips and throwing it away. She’s not going to smile at him even as her lips twitch at his childish sense of humour.

She moves swiftly to straddle Ward, she doesn’t need them getting any ideas of taking her down now she’s put down the useless weapon. She has to take it slow, she may have only recently had his cock inside of her but it’s still more than a comfortable stretch. At least now she’s back on top she can control just how gradually she sinks down on to him. She moves more quickly than she probably should but given that she’s only recently taken him nearly all the way in… she can probably cope with it… probably. 

She’s distracted by Phil’s hands around her from behind, reaching around to fondle and play with her breasts and isn’t really paying as much attention as she should when Ward’s hands settle on her hips, pulling her down onto him as pushes inexorably upwards. She’s apparently wet enough and well used enough that she can take it without pain accompanying the pleasure. He’s sliding in deeper as she opens up to him, arching her back to improve the angle, letting him go as deep as he wants. She’s shaking and whimpering within seconds at the feeling of him inside whilst Phil covers her back, plays with her nipples and traces his own bite marks gently. She’s almost forgiven them both for their earlier actions as they play with her, building the pleasure incrementally higher until she’s rocking against them without thought, feeling hot, hotter than ever. She feels so small against their much larger forms. Almost weak even as she knows she’s anything but. “Phil,” she ends up hissing out on a breath, an entreaty as much as a plea for more and his fingers move lower, unhesitating as they brush through her folds unerringly rubbing under then around her clit as she jerks against his touch.

But apparently whispering Phil’s name indicates that she’s ignoring Ward because after another steady retreat leaving her far too empty, muscles clenching down on nothing, his hands on her hips are digging in tight and he’s suddenly hammering into her without caution. It certainly feels as though they're still fighting over her as they both pick up speed, Phil’s hands more harshly pulling and rubbing her breast, pressing harder and pinching at her clit, Ward pummeling her faster, violently, as though by fucking her they are somehow beating the other. Beating on each other through her exhausted body. It is very much not okay and she’ll do something about it momentarily! Like just as soon as she’s over this climax, then she’ll-

She’s rolled too quickly for her to counteract, Phil’s hand torn from her breast painfully as he’s forced aside out of the way as Ward takes up position kneeling above her, his hands dragging her hips up his legs to meet him as she screams aloud at the new angle. She’s little care for where Phil and Fitz have ended up. Ward is pounding into her, pummelling her insides as though he intends to ruin her. She can’t seem to stop the screams. It’s too much. She’s trying in vain to gasp between screaming. He’s never been like this before with her. He’s never just fucked her. Never driven into her cunt hard and violent without a care. It’s animalistic. Primal. It’s so soooo good. She wonders idly if she’d pushed him earlier, could they have been enjoying this instead of the luke warm sex? She’s screaming out her climax and there’s no doubt that everyone on the bus will have heard her. She’s no time to think on that further as Ward doesn’t stop. He continues to fuck her frantically, driving aside her clenching muscles and ricocheting her into a second orgasm off the back of the first.

She’s almost certain that she blacks out a little and she’s exhausted from the number of times she’s already come today. The pounding that her cunt is taking from Ward’s monster of a cock is too much. She doesn’t think she can take much more of it pistonning in and out of her without care for her abused muscles inability to keep up.

She’s aware in the back of her mind of the others on the periphery, prowling around them. Desperate to be back inside her but not so foolish as to incite a fight with Ward over it when he’s being so violent. She’s not certain she can summon up the energy to override her body’s reactions and escape him currently.

She hurts. Her ribs are especially displeased with the battering she’s taking and now that the pleasure is weaning off she’s starting to feel them again. 

She tries to talk sense, hopes that Ward can understand reason as Phil appeared to earlier when she needed a change in position. “Ward. Ward, you need to slow down. You… argh! You need to take it steadier. Please Ward. I…” It’s clearly making no difference. In fact, her trying to talk him out of it might well be antagonizing him as it feels like he pounding her even harder, trying to punish her physically for trying to deny him. 

This is too much! 

“Ward, stop.” She tries to make it a demand, tries to have it come out firm, an order despite her gasping tear stricken state. 

“Please.” 

It might have ended less an order and more pleading but it seems to do the job as he suddenly freezes. He’s blessedly still as she struggles to catch her breath, wipes her running nose and rubs at too wet cheeks. She finally notices her surroundings to discover that Phil is standing directly behind Ward the discarded icer once again in his hand, the barrel almost pressed to the side of Ward’s head as he holds in place.

“Do I get to shoot him now then?” Phil asks her cockily once she’s sorted herself.

“What? No,” is her un-thought out response (Yes! Her mind answers only moments later). She knows the icer’s empty, she used the last, but she needs to keep the illusion that she can just shoot any of them at any time. It’s the only threat she’s got to keep them all from getting out of hand again. “Give me that,” she says annoyed with herself both for her body’s own reactions and for letting Phil get to it as she pulls the icer from his unresisting grip.

“Strike one, Ward,” she tells him with a glare as she moves out from under him to kneel off to one side gathering her breath, arm pressing shakily against her aching ribs as she tries to gain control over the adrenaline. Maybe they are more than just bruised.

“Does that mean I get three strikes before I’m out?” Ward asks with a characteristic cocky smirk. She’s half a mind to wipe the smirk from his face but as she’s out of ammo she’s going to just have to let it go this time. Doesn’t mean she’s letting him cause her pain again.

“No,” she tells him adamantly. “It means you get to time out whilst the good boys get to play,” that knocks this smirk from his cocky face. “It means that if you EVER ignore me again I’m shooting you. It won’t be with an icer.” She lets a vicious smile cross her face to back up her threat. If he ignores her and hurts her again then she’s going down to the armoury and getting a real gun to shoot him with! She may waste a number of bullets on non-crucial target areas before she’s satisfied. 

He falls quiet at that, no trace of the cocky attitude in his expression. It’s slightly concerning just how easily he switches, makes her more aware of his skills in deception. Hill said she’d given him high marks in espionage, she hadn’t quite believed it up until now. It makes her wonder... Then he rolls back over on to his back, curling his arms over his head so that his hands interlink as a makeshift pillow behind his head – a makeshift binding and an unspoken promise of his intended good behaviour. She doesn’t particularly believe it but she’ll take what she can get especially as it puts her back in control.

She’s not keen on breaking her gaze from the coiled serpent that is Ward in case his capitulation is a ruse but appreciates that the tactical imperative is to get them all cured as soon as possible and the only way she’s going to progress with that is to actually do something about it. She can’t just stay kneeling here staring at Ward in case he tries something. She’s unlikely to be able to stop him even if he does without the threat of the icer and that threat will be called for the bluff that it is as soon as he makes a move. She needs to distract him from whatever plan he’s compiling before it’s complete. He needs to stay interested in the potential of fucking her and therefore averse to the risk of being icered to keep him on best behaviour. 

She’s up to her feet and sitting back upon The Sex Sofa next to Fitz before she’s really aware that her mind has made a decision. She knows rationally that she needs it slow and gentle. Her body can’t take much more abuse before it really will turn every movement into pain. She needs the care, the comfort of Fitz, the sweetness this time around. She turns into him, legs curling up on the sofa cushion for a few minutes of weakness and his arms come up around her as she leans in for the comfort her body needs even as her mind warns of showing this weakness.

Phil is at her back, wrapping himself around her back as the two cocoon her within their embrace, held and protected from the world. She would love to just stay here forever, protected, cherished.

“Let us make love to you, Melinda,” Phil almost whispers as he presses a kiss against her hair. Her head nods in answer almost immediately, cautious of breaking the peace that has descended upon the room. There’s no way her mind can possibly refuse him so polite a request, she can never refuse him anyway. He coaxes her physically to open back up from the shell she’s curled her body into, pulling her into his lap as her manoeuvres them to half sit, half lie against the back of the sofa cushions. His lips flutter a wet trail down her neck, encouraging her eyes to close as her head rolls back against his shoulder to expose more skin to his kisses. She can feel him nod, the side of his head brushing against her own, moments before butter soft lips press against her own. The tongue flicking against her lips seeking entry is an added delight her fogged brain can’t quite compute as lips trail over her shoulder, sucking wet little kisses and leaving her skin shivering in their wake. Her own tongue slips out, the tip meeting and engaging in a short wet battle as they entwine, wrestling slowly, before hot lips crash down upon her own, encompassing their battle inside his mouth for moments only as her own mouth opens to allow him entry to explore. It’s hot and wet and nothing else seems to matter except this steady byplay of tongues pressing and rubbing, curling and dancing against one another.

He retreats first, backing away from her swollen lips which remain parted in the hope that he’ll reconsider. Her eyes fly open when he doesn’t, questioning as she gazes up where he hovers above her into his own eyes, which appear almost black, pupils blown wide with arousal. She’s certain that her own look the same. Her head rolls sideways at the pressure of insistent lips moving further across her neck, Phil’s hand brushing to one side her hair where it’s fallen in his way until her neck is completely exposed to his teasing tongue. He’s tracing his own marks she realises quickly, rehashing them with gentle licks, apologising and reclaiming all at once.

She can sense Fitz’s face hovering, light breaths on her cheek, as he leans in closer to whisper in her ear. “Can I touch you?” it’s both the sweetest and most arousing thing he could have said to her right this instant. She’s no ability to restrain her response to a mere nod as pleas leak out intended for only his ears. A muddled combination of permission and pleas and his name whispered until she feels him move away. A momentary disappointment immediately alleviated as tentative fingers rest on top of each of her thighs. She has to force her eyes open again to look. To look down this time at where he kneels, a supplicant between her, and therefore Phil’s, spread legs, palms almost casually resting on her upper thighs as his eyes watch her own steadily.

She can’t find the words to ask for what she wants, not here and now before all of them, but her body can beg for her as her legs spread open further, her bottom sliding down a little ways on the cushions so that she reclines more, her hips arched to a better angle at the edge of the seat, open and vulnerable to him as she lays back against Phil’s warm chest. Fitz’s thumbs brush lightly against the insides of her thighs, stroking the inch of soft skin repeatedly until she’s thinking of squirming just to get them to move higher, but as if he’s read her thoughts his hands are moving, palms rising off her legs as fingers drum a light pitter-patter trailing too steadily closer to where she needs his touch. 

She doesn’t do him the disservice of thinking he’s deliberately teasing her as his fingers stop at the crease of her thighs, finger tips hesitating to take that final step, to touch her swollen lips, to run his fingers through her wetness, maybe push one just a little inside, testing, teasing. Her legs spread open wider, pushing Phil’s heavier thighs apart as far as they’ll go, seeking to encourage Fitz to go that little bit further but it’s not enough and she whines in frustration as she pushes against the cage formed by Phil’s body. Phil’s large hands under her thighs solve the problem spectacularly, lifting her legs without warning bending them at the knees and spreading them out over the tops of his own, entwining his ankles with hers to hold her spread open in place. A million times more vulnerable. A million times more arousing.

Fitz doesn’t appear to need any further prompting as a hesitant finger brushes one slow unbelievably intense sweep from the bottom of her nether lips, pushing up between them to dance lightly over her opening resisting the temptation to press inside even as she tries to angle her hips to force the decision from him, and up over her, dancing with an almost unnoticeably light touch over her engorged clit before leaving her gasping. She’s never been touched so, never felt so much from so little. She’s on the edge of begging him for more, for another slow touch just the same however frustrating in its splendid torture of light pressure and teasing trails. 

Her mind is thankfully diverted before her mouth opens... by Phil’s god blessed hands. Palms cupping her breasts gently from behind, lifting lightly as his fingers spread across to feel all of her. Those same fingers stroking across her sensitive skin, up and down, catching her pebbled nipples on each pass as though unintentionally. She gasps out loud as Fitz reintroduces tow fingers to trail the same steady path up through her wet folds, brushing and pushing to spread them wide open, the cool air caressing her hole and drawing forth a shiver. Phil’s fingers close together, middle and index fingers catching her nipples between them, trapping them in place as he tugs gently sending sharp spasms of pleasure shooting directly from them to her clit. A clit that Fitz’s fingers are becoming more bold teasing, rubbing off to either side as he rolls that little nub oh so delicately before brushing with the sweetest of touches over it making her leap and quiver in his hands.

They’re playing her up so gently, caressing her so softly. Worshiping her body with love and attention she’s probably never felt before to this degree. She comes apart with a soft whimper, back arching as her body shakes outside of her control, the sweetest of orgasms lacking nothing in intensity as her muscles continue to flutter and her eyes see sparks for several minutes, fingers and lips stretching it out, extending the pleasure even though she can’t rationally comprehend everything. Then she’s collapsing back down onto them, boneless and spent, aware only peripherally of the arms coming up around to hold her tightly in place. 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I deserve extra long comments in return for the extra long chapter and niceness to May... (subtle hint)


	9. Plan 4 is still the last plan... it just got a little sidetracked!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one we've all been waiting for...

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Plan 4 is still the last plan... it just got a little sidetracked 

 

She’s not sure how long she rests comfortably sandwiched in place between Phil and Fitz as their hands almost absentmindedly trace patterns across her sweat slicked skin, teasing here and there but predominantly stroking, caressing her skin in a calming soothing manner. It’s probably too long though.

That Ward’s stayed in place is astounding. That his hands have remained in place behind his head and never strayed to touch his cock throughout that show she doesn’t believe for an instant but she’ll let him have this small fallacy.

As good as that was for her, she needs to move on with the plan now. She’s recuperated enough. She’s punished Ward by excluding him sufficiently. She’s confident now that everyone is mostly in control of their baser emotions notwithstanding the Asgardian sex pollen playing havoc on their psyches. It’s time to kick things up a notch and execute this plan for everyone’s benefit.

She moves her body deliberately slightly away from them, sitting up in place as their hands drop away taking the hint. She stands up on admittedly slightly shakey legs. The silence behind her is uncomfortable, her actions creating a distance she didn’t intend. She’s never been good with words. A thank you hardly seems appropriate but anything else seems somehow lacking for the beautiful gift they’ve treasured her with. She turns to meet their eyes before she can chicken out of it, pressing a lingering kiss first to Fitz’s lips then even more deeply to Phil’s, feeling him smirk underneath her – he knows exactly what she can’t express, he always does. His eyes gleam up at her as she stands back up, a quick glance at Fitz confirms his happiness too, and her own lips are twitching in a very small smile echoing their happiness. 

She shakes her head at the foolishness of them all and turns back to look down at Ward, walking the few strides across to him, stepping a leg more carefully over his hips before leaning forwards, balancing her hands on his stomach as she kneels astride him. She’s more than ready for him as she takes that large cock back inside her pussy, pushing down head thrown back with an earth shattering groan. She breathes heavily, hands splayed against Ward’s chest for balance confirm he’s struggling likewise for oxygen as the feelings overwhelm. She works him a little, tormenting them both equally, but she needs to know she’s stretched enough, needs to be sure she can cope with what’s to come.

“Phil?” He takes it for the invitation it is, settling in behind her with a palm on her lower back. It’s a reassuring touch as much as it may simply be helping him balance as he kneels in place behind her.

She shivers a little and blames the sweat cooling on her skin. She’s frozen in place not by fear but by anticipation.

 

It’s been a while since she’s taken it up the ass and with Ward already inside her she needs it to be Phil. Needs it to be someone she trusts to be careful with her, someone she knows will control himself irrespective of the drugs coursing through his system if she needs him to. She just _needs_ it to be Phil.

She settles down low resting her breasts against Ward’s sculpted abs, her head cushioned by his chest due to his absurd height. It’s always been a frustration previously, preventing her from kissing him whilst she rides him, but now it seems like the perfect height difference.

She feels Phil’s finger at her ass first, a clear sign that she has chosen correctly as he takes time breaching her slowly, checking she’s already sufficiently lubricated and stretched enough to take him back there. It’s a tight squeeze even on two of his fingers but it’s not painful. It’s just full. Oh so gloriously full. She can feel his fingers inside, rubbing against the thin wall separating him from Ward’s monster of a cock as the pair of them groan and Ward can’t help but push up inside her further as her muscles clamp down upon him. 

“Go slow,” she instructs as he removes his fingers and presses his cock up against her. There’s still an element of doubt in her mind, she’s not convinced until her breaches her, her muscles steadily opening to the pressure, widening to let him press inside. 

 

Then he’s suddenly inside, breaching her with a slight pop she’s pretty sure only she hears. She squirms trying to pull away from the discomfort as he slides inside more than she’s ready for. “Oh God,” she can’t help but mutter, turning her head down to hide her face in Ward’s chest, her hair falling forwards to cover her. Phil holds still as she gasps, chest heaving forcing her body to rock and move against the hard cocks inside of her. Large hands clamp down on her hips, securing her in place, preventing her escape from the uncomfortable intrusion. The cock in her ass pulls back until just the tip rests inside her. That she can cope with, not that she’s much choice whilst she’s held trapped in place. She lifts her head up to glare at the owner of the hands holding her prisoner. “Ward.” It’s a statement, a question and a threat combined and delivered in just the one icy word. He’s already pushed as far as she’s going to let him with his previous stunts, he is so not taking control here and now. 

“Sorry,” he chokes out and it’s clear from his tightly shut eyes and tense expression that he’s concentrating but his hands don’t move to release her. She half forgives the slight at the sight of his obvious desperation. “You can’t just writhe around on me like that and expect me to be able to stay still,” he explains once he’s more control over himself. Yeah, he’s probably right.

“I do expect it,” she states quite clearly. Much as she might understand why he’s slipped, she doesn’t intend to even give him an inch of leeway about it. She gives an inch, he’ll take yards, and then Phil will give him a little more rope and hang him with it. Yeah, her mind’s mixing metaphors but who the hell cares. “Ward!” she snaps in the best drill sergeant voice she’s got. Irrespective of his cock stretching her cunt oh so delightfully full, of Phil’s cock just peeking into her ass and her position trapped between the two of them, she’s still not taking any prisoners. She’s in control now. She’s staying in control. His hands quickly let go of her hips, flung out to either side of him, palms up and not a threat. It’s good enough.

“May?” Phil’s terse voice comes from behind and it’s obvious from the strain that he’s struggling to hold still with just the head of his cock inside her tight back passage whilst she sees to the Ward issue. On the up side, she feels much more relaxed after the distraction of dealing with Ward. “Maybe you could push up a bit and Ward could put those hands to better use?” Phil suggests. See this, THIS is why he’s the man with the plan. Could there really be a better idea at this point in time than getting those nice large hands on her breasts and distracting Ward from trying to take over control at the same time? Phil’s focus on her pleasure over his own situation is just one more of the things she lov- likes about him.

She places her palms to either side of Ward’s broad chest, pushing up until her elbows lock straight, holding herself up above his chest but keeping her hips squarely flush with his own. The change of angle makes both men groan and forces a gasp from her own lips despite the fact that she’s caused the change and should have been ready for it. “Ward,” she instructs more kindly, a suggestion this time rather than an order or a threat like the previous times she’s had to address him. His calloused palms are slightly rough but warm and oh so good as they come up around her breasts, cupping and lifting them before kneading gently. She sighs lightly as her eyes fall closed at the feeling. He’s always been a breast man. Whilst she might not have much to offer in that department he certainly knows what he’s doing as he worships them, stroking and swirling. Pinching and teasing only to caress immediately afterwards in distraction or apology it doesn’t matter which as he continues to evoke those beautiful sensations that seem to ride straight down to the pool in her lower belly. She’s thoroughly distracted by his manipulations until Phil starts to move. Then it’s all hands on deck as her mind reverses course, all attention riding on the slow push forwards of the cock in her ass.

“Go slow,” she almost pleads this time even though she knows, she _knows_ damn it, that she doesn’t need to tell him that. She trusts him more than she trusts herself sometimes but... well maybe there’s still an element of doubt somewhere in the back of her mind.

“I will,” he reassures in a whisper, a kiss to the back of her hair confirmation of so much between them before his hands take up residence back on her hips, pulling her back towards him as he pushes again, sliding in deep.

Oh so deep. 

Plundering and scraping against muscles that haven’t been stretched so in years. Possibly in forever, she thinks. Ward groans with her at the feeling of Phil’s cock brushing up against his through her thin walls and they’re all groaning as her muscles flutter uncontrollably around them, intensifying everything.

She needs to move. She needs more.

Phil’s holding himself shakingly still, letting her adjust, get used to the size of them both inside, stretching her to the absolute maximum she can take, possibly more than she should reasonably take, but she needs him to move. To move now. To give her more before rationality interrupts and she realises that she can’t take any more.

“More.” It’s a demand. Not a plea. She’s in control here much as it might seem otherwise to a casual observer – and oh God do they not need more of those any time soon. 

She needs more. She gets it as the pressure on her inside increases as he pushes forwards again and slides in deeper. 

Ward’s hand leaves her breast but she’s more important things on her mind than one neglected nipple as he uses his training to hone unerringly in on her clit, pressing in just the right place on the first try but rubbing just a little too hard for how sensitive she is. Sparks of white light blank her mind, her arms give way beneath her and her chest crashes down upon his own, trapping his hand and arm between them, but it’s not a concern for any of them as her ass and cunt clamp down around the intruding cocks. Hard. Hard enough that they’re all shouting aloud because it’s too much, but she can’t not. It takes a moment for her to regain control enough of her body to relax down again and then they’re all panting, breathing heavily, chests rising automatically as they slump upon one another trying to catch their breaths. 

It’s Fitz who starts them laughing, his attempts to muffle his own almost giggles behind two hands a complete waste of time when the three of them are agents trained to notice the slightest of sounds. The light chuckles that rack her frame are silent but she’s not fooling anyone as her body shakes in time. Ward’s wide smile is a little more like his usual self – not smug or smirking, just slightly self-mocking. Phil’s guffaws are sudden, loud but short lived. 

“Don’t do that again,” he instructs attempting to convey a stern demeanour. She’s not sure whether he means her or Ward.

Either way she can’t resist calling him on it, not when she’s having so much fun. “Don’t what?” she asks, deliberately tightening her muscles around him as soon as he opens his mouth to answer just to prove who still holds the upper hand on this situation. She releases him quickly - tightening down on them may blind them with pleasure but it’s the same increasing intensity of sensations that run up and down her own body whenever she does so. She can’t risk getting so distracted that they turn this around on her so early.

“Too much for you boys to handle?” Yeah, she’s cocky. It’s about time that they’re the ones struggling in tormented pleasure, she’s been balancing on that precipice enough this day. “Is my little ass too tight for you, Phil? Don’t you just want to fuck it hard, pound me until I’m begging and screaming for you to stop?” He might well know what turns her on best but she knows him just as well.

“You’re a tease, May,” he manages to squeeze out between clenched teeth.

“Not a tease, Phil. A tease would wind you up and walk away. Leave you all here suffering...” she lets the slight threat sink in, but not for too long. She doesn’t need any of them to worry that she’s serious and take more extreme measures to keep her in place. “I am most definitely putting out,” she declares sliding herself back against them, pushing them both deeper inside of her, Ward’s cock pressing hard up inside as he bottoms out and she grinds upon them seeking more of the sensations.

“Fitz, maybe you should do something to keep her smart mouth occupied before it gets her into any more trouble,” Phil suggests, the unofficial second in command of this little operation. It’s a good idea. One she has no intention of countermanding and her eyes search Fitz out. 

He’s obviously been occupying himself as he still has his cock in hand, absentmindedly stroking as he walks closer towards them. He kneels to the side of Ward’s chest but the length of his knees mean he’s out of range for what she wants. The issue doesn’t seem to have registered in that genius brain of his as he smiles down at her, one finger catching the hair up from her forehead to drag it back behind an ear. His hand cups her cheek sweetly as he bends down low, his lips pressing chastely against her own in the lightest of kisses before backing away. Her eyes fly open, she’s not really sure when they fell closed, but he’s not gone far. Just far enough for him to look her in the eyes, a question in his own as he hesitates. She doesn’t intend to wait for whatever question he’s about to mumble, they can get to that later, she knows what she wants right now. “Kiss me,” she whispers. 

The angle should make it awkward but it doesn’t as his lips find her own, his hands cupping her jaw drawing her up higher, closer to him even as her arms struggle move to try to hold her back up. The cocks inside her although stationary seem to emphasise everything. Every gasp, every breath, every light tangle of wet tongues as they wrestle pleasurably sloppily is more intense, more amazing that she thought possible. She can feel herself building to climax deep inside. She can’t help but move, her hips shifting infinitesimally as sparks shoot behind her eyes at the slightest movement. He swallows her moan with teeth and tongue, crashing his lips harder against her own as though he seeks to climb down her throat to swallow all sound.

Then Phil moves and she’s left half paralysed in place, mouth open panting as Fitz licks into her, exploring and seeking in every place as Phil pulls back oh so slowly. She shivers as he leaves her empty, as he hesitates on the cusp of leaving her to torment them both. She can’t concentrate on Fitz’s kisses or how Ward’s hands have come up to manhandle her breasts once more now that there’s room again. Her entire focus is on Phil behind her. The light puffs of breath she can hear as he struggles against the need to ram hard into her. The tight grip of his hands as fingers dig into the skin of her hips, resisting the urge to just pull her back hard against him, to take what he wants without concern for her pain. She can’t take it as the tension rockets her arousal skyward, the possibility that he might... the possibility... it’s enough that she’s left gasping, almost ready to beg him. To do it or not to, she’s not sure. “Phiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilll,” it comes out on a whine around Fitz’s lips, her desperation obvious.

There’s a moment of thought, a pause too long in the stillness of this moment, before he slides forwards on an exhale. His cock pressing back deep inside her. He stops and she can breathe, can move again, can kiss Fitz back passionately like she needs, can feel Ward’s big hands as fingers and thumbs pluck at her pebbled nipples. Then Phil’s cock inside her pushes forwards an extra inch, stealing her breath from her as her body jerks in place, his hands on her hips preventing her from drawing away, his skin coming to rest against her ass, bottoming out as deep as he can go with a drawn out groan of absolute ecstasy.

Fitz pulls back away from her at the half-scream, his eyes roaming her face intently checking she’s alright. “Fitz,” she says meeting his eyes to try to convince him she’s fine. Better than fine in fact. But if this continues then she’s going to come again and then things are going to get a little more out of control and ... well ... if they’re going to do this then she’d really like to be with it enough to enjoy it properly. “Fuck me.”

His hands leave her face like she’s burned him as he pulls back to kneel back on his ankles, far too far away from her for her liking. She shuffles a little, trying to balance herself in place on the one arm so that she can pull him closer but it’s obvious even in her pleasure bedraggled state that it’s not going to work. She collapses back down to lie her head on Ward’s chest, freeing up the hand closest to him. She doesn’t beat about the bush normally so it’ll surprise no one that she’s less than shy as her hand reaches out to take a hold on his cock. Except Fitz. It surprises the hell out of Fitz if his almost girlish screech and wide eyed expression are anything to go on. He shifts forwards as she tugs gently, widening his legs apart so that he can get closer despite Ward’s bulk being in the way. His arms are stuck firmly to his sides as if he doesn’t know what else to do with them.

She shuffles her upper body across Ward’s chest (Ward does at least try to assist), twisting until she can rest her elbows on Fitz’s thighs, head close enough above his cock that she can guide it into her mouth. It ruins the angle for Phil as he continues the slow glides in and out of her ass, deprives Ward of her breasts to play with, but she only needs a few minutes. She sucks on the head of his cock, swirls a tongue over, around and under it, flicks lightly at the vein beneath before suckling harder and drawing herself back off with a slick pop.

Then she moves back, looking up from beneath her lashes at his flushed state, waiting for him to meet her eyes. When he does she smiles, runs the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, eyes laughing as his gaze follows. She waits for his eyes to flick back up to meet her own before she speaks. “Fuck me, Fitz.” She waits a beat as he gulps but makes no move, seemingly a little stunned. It’s sweet but she’s impatient. She grabs for his hand, pulling it until it rests around the back of her neck, first fingers just brushing the back of her skull. Then she grabs for the other, pulling it underneath her head as she raises it off Ward’s chest momentarily, pleased that at least now Fitz seems to be taking a more active role again as his hands clench down. “Hold my head in place and fuck my mouth,” she instructs. There’s no mistaking that it’s an order. She might be the one on the receiving end but she’s still the one in control. This is her plan. She will carry it out.

He’s tentative as he pulls her up, supporting her head as he kneels up closer himself. It leaves her own arms free to take her body weight, to prop her slightly above Ward’s chest again so that they can all enjoy this to its fullest. He holds her over his cock, it bouncing gently against her lips as he looks down again, questioning, checking. “Fuck m-” she doesn’t get to finish as he presses forwards, his cock pushing over her bottom lip, past teeth she quickly opens out of the way, her tongue coming up for him to rest against as they both groan. It’s not been too long since he was inside of her and she can still taste herself on him, mixed with his slightly salty skin.

Between his sweetness, Ward’s cocky aggression and Phil’s absolute control it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

He’s holding her securely enough that she takes the limited risk to move her hand to his tight ass, grasping a cheek which makes him jump forwards hitting the back of her throat. She coughs as he retreats, apologies spewing forth from his lips. She pulls him back and he resists only lightly as she swallows him down. She pulls again, encouraging him to slip in further, relaxes as he does, concentrates to override her gag reflex as she swallows the head of his cock into her throat. He’s small enough that she can breathe around him provided she keeps to shallow breaths, provided she concentrates and regulates. She rears back letting him slip forwards as she gasps in a larger breath, dropping back down and moving her hand back to support her balance, looking him in the eye as tears come unbidden to the corners of her own, asking him wordlessly to take control of this part, encouraging him to fuck her throat.

He doesn’t need much more encouragement as he pulls her back off his cock by his hands in her hair, letting her gasp again for a bigger breath. “Pull her back down,” Phil encourages him from behind her. “Soon as she’s got her breath, pull her back down and fuck her throat some more.”

He does. 

 

Then they’re all moving and everything is just so much better. They’re thrusting inside her, using her. Six hands gripping, pulling and stroking, sparks of pleasure shooting to her brain, tightening and intensifying. She can stop worrying, stop planning, stop thinking. 

She can feel her lower belly drawing tighter, her skin tingling with the pressure at the knowledge that she’s trapped between them. She feels weak. Exhausted but bathed in sensation. Unable to think. Only to feel. Wrapped up in feelings so intense she can feel tears in her eyes. 

It’s exquisite torture.

Pleasure on another level entirely.

 

Phil is controlling the entire thing now, which seems only right in her muddled out mind. 

He’s the only one really with any room to manoeuvre anyway. 

He pushes forwards into her ass on a long slow slide, driving her down further onto Ward’s giant cock as her pussy muscles clench and flutter around him in the beginning twitches of another likely to be spectacular climax. It’s exquisite. The feel of Ward pushing up that extra inch of leeway he has as she’s driven down onto him by Phil makes her moan and the vibrations send Fitz into a frenzy, his groans and whimpers echoing her own as he keeps her in place with a harsh grip in her hair, spearing down her throat and stealing her breath. 

Then Phil’s retreating, slowly sliding out of her and they all fall silent, waiting, anticipating, gasping until he’s pushing forwards again, inexorable. An unstoppable force sliding deep inside her and setting them all off again! An endless cycle of intolerably pleasurable sensation.

Increasing.

Building. 

Intensifying until she’s ready to scream! 

Only for her to climax, relax and have it all start up again. 

Pleasure.

Pain. 

Who knows.

Just more.

And more.

Too much.

But more still.

Until she’ll go mad from it all.

 

She doesn't really care that they're fucking on the floor like animals in the middle of the common room. Hell! She probably wouldn't care if Fury himself walked in right now. She almost laughs at the thought that he'd probably just swear, complain and then take a seat until a hole became available. 

But then her mind is forced back to focus on the fucking glorious sensations her body is subjected to and there's little thinking of laughter or Fury or really anything else except yes please God more!

Trapped between the three of them, used by them, she feels helpless. Small and weak they can do anything to her. Nothing matters anymore. It’s not her in control.

She so often had to be the one in control – touch me here, squeeze that, slower, harder. It is liberating to just relax into the sensations, let them do as they please, just along for the ride.

 

She’s working with them the little she’s able, rocking her hips as they thrust into her, gasping for breath around him and suckling as best she can between screams. Her body is failing her though, her muscles ache for relief, her lungs as screaming at her as they fight for the air she chooses to deny herself, she’s straining at the limits of her exhaustion as they continue to pound into her, forcing her up higher, driving her to another climax only to refuse to let her drop, refusing to let her recover, simply continuing ever onwards, inexorable, rebuilding the pressure to force her up higher still…

 

 

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It feels like hours later before they all come inside her but it’s probably not been that long.

Fitz comes first, a light squeak of an exhalation as his back bows, forcing himself down her throat and holding her in place, almost drowning her as he pumps her full of cum. 

The sight of Fitz losing it, or more likely of her forced to swallow so much down, sends Ward frantic, grabbing at her hips to hold her up far enough that he can make several thrusts hard and deep into her before bathing her pussy with his hot seed. 

Phil is the last to let go, controlling himself so carefully as he fucks her ass oh so slowly despite Ward’s whining that it’s too much now, that he’s too sensitive. Well, join the bloody club! She’s been too sensitive and it’s been too much for at least the last six orgasms but you don’t hear her complaining! 

Unless you count the begging and screaming… 

Phil is almost silent as he comes inside her, thrumming her clit and forcing her over into one last orgasm with him, whispering into the bite mark on her neck for only her to hear “Still mine,” his lips smiling against her skin when her body shudders at the declaration. God, she loves him!

She’s exhausted and sweaty and full of cum but she doesn’t particularly care as she lays her head back down onto Ward’s chest, Phil collapsing over her back and Fitz’s hand on her head as he flops to one side keeping him linked with all of them.

 

 

Wow.

 

 

Maybe that’s why Romanoff volunteers to solve problems like this even when it’s not her team?

 

 

 

 

 

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	10. Epilogue?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! I have a beta so some of this might actually end up error free for u to read - thanks Devilgrrl!

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She managed to extricate herself from the sweaty pile whilst the others were still getting their bearings and made her exit without a further word.

She remembers that at some point when they were all going at it Sif paraded through the common area, a bound and collared Lorelei pushed along in front of her. She remembers Sif clapping and laughing, she thinks there were congratulations in there or some kind of salute to her but she could be wrong. She wasn’t exactly paying attention at the time. She does remember Sif promising to wait until they were finished before releasing Skye and Simmons for which she is now eternally grateful but which at the time she didn’t particularly care about!

She immediately released the girls from the Cage ignoring their horrified expressions at the sight of her naked, bruised, sweat (amongst less acceptable things) covered and almost staggering from exhaustion.  
She knows that she needs a shower. But she needs to ensure that the men are checked out in the infirmary first - they’ve been subject to an alien drug, were effectively unable to consent to the marathon sex that they all just engaged in and she needs to be certain that they are alright physically even if the mental aspects will take a while to work through. She directs Simmons to get them to the infirmary, clarifies that no records are to be made unless there is a problem, that there is to be absolutely no mention of this in any of their reports. It’s standard Shield procedure but she feels it’s worth emphasizing – their team mates don’t need the potential additional embarrassment should this get out. She directs Skye to deal with the video footage – delete everything from the point of Coulson’s exposure, let it look to anyone interested as though Lorelei’s initial collaring was immediately followed by their team mates’ recovery. 

She bypassed the majority of their questioning, insisted that she was fine (repeatedly) and finally made it to what felt like the most amazing shower she’d ever had.

The two chased her down (it was kind of sweet that they cared), interrupted her shower (which certainly wasn’t sweet!) as Dr Simmons (a far more difficult creature to intimidate into leaving her alone that Agent Simmons) gave her a full (and downright embarrassing) examination before prescribing a host of medications that she had no intention of taking. Well… maybe she’d take the painkillers...

They’d sent Sif on her merry way, gagged prisoner in tow, whilst she’d laughed internally as all three of the men avoided looking her in the eyes. Fitz blushed scarlet every time she was in the same room. Ward kept going out of his way to make sure they didn’t even brush against each other when they passed in the corridors and kept pushing in front of her to open doors before she reached them. Phil had simply been a little more reserved but she could put that down to the exhaustion all of them are suffering.

 

Phil is of course the first one to address the elephant in the room. Sif has just left when she tells him that she’s going to see how much damage the plane is suffering. The damage to the plane is clearly not his immediate concern, she’d never really thought it would be.

 _“How much damage are you suffering?”_ is what he asks her, it’s his ultimate concern disguised in a witty rejoinder but she’s never expected anything else from him.

 _“You didn’t break anything,”_ she replies with a smile knowing full well that if she doesn’t convince him she’s actually okay then he’ll be running her down to medical for a full work up Shield unwritten (may be written somewhere knowing Hill!) protocol or no. He accepts it at face value that she is only bruised and tired really. It’s nothing more than she’d expect in injuries from a good fight… or really amazing sex.

 _“You should talk to them,”_ he says. She knows he’s right. Things will be awkward if she avoids the other two. She just needs to lay it out there for them both and they can move on as normal, pretending it never happened. 

 

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As soon as everyone is freed from medical, Coulson is directing everyone to a briefing, which ends up being held in medical around the cot that Simmons has managed to force Skye back into by some miracle of British steadfastness!

The briefing is short and to the point: “Shield protocol mandates that incidents such as these are dealt with internally by the team affected wherever possible and all mention of any occurrences during the period of inebriation is strictly prohibited. This does not go in any report. It is not to be mentioned EVER outside this team and ideally not to be mentioned ever again under any circumstances. Dealing with a sex pollen outbreak or similar and the actions taken whilst so affected or in response to those affected are to be considered akin to suffering or assisting in dealing with any other injury. Agent May acted appropriately to assist the three of us who were suffering from the effects of the toxin, for which we are grateful. There are dedicated Shield counsellors written in on the effects and traumas of sex pollen incidents which I would advise you to all avail yourselves of (whilst knowing almost certainly that none of you will). That’s it. Sort your reports for the Lorelei incident tomorrow and take the rest of the evening to rest up.”

She retreats to the solitude of her cockpit almost straight after that - not to hide from the team mates she knows will want to speak with her but to ensure that she’s easy to track down in a private place to suffer through the awkward conversations and get them back into thinking of her simply as a teammate.

 

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The first to approach her is Fitz.

His light tap on the door is barely heard through the door’s thickness. She wonders if he’s hoping that she doesn’t hear him and doesn’t answer so that he can put off the conversation a little longer. She hears him, answers that he can come in. Putting this off will only make him more nervous.

He’s hovering behind her by the doorway, staying by the escape or simply not wanting to venture closer towards her. “Er… I thought you might be hungry so I… er… well I brought some cheese and crackers,” he says, rushing forwards to present the plate piled high with an assortment of different crackers bearing various cheeses. It’s her secret weakness. She smiles at him, pleased that he’s noticed and that he thought to bring her something as she is pretty much famished from the work out.

“Fitz…” she starts, hoping to set him at ease by explaining matter of factly everything that Phil has basically just told everyone in the briefing room and confirming it to be true, but he interrupts before she gets much further than his name.

“I’m sorry,” he gushes out, skating around her to kneel on the floor next to her chair, peering up at her earnestly. “I’m so so sorry, Agent May. I’ve never ever lost control like that. I’d never have… I’d not… What I’m trying to say is…”

She stops him with a palm cupping his cheek, excepting earlier today it’s probably the first time she’s ever touched him.

She talks over him as he tries to interrupt again. “You were drugged Fitz. You were drugged. You were not responsible for your actions. There is absolutely no need for you to apologise. If anything, I should be the one apologising to you. I chose to help you through that. It’s what team mates do. We look out for one another. Okay?” she presses.

“Okay,” he replies echoing her quietly. He does look a little lighter as his brain works its way through it. 

“Now, none of that frankly amazing sex (she ignores his wide eyed look and the fact that he repeats “amazing?” like there was ever any doubt) happened as far as the records show so there is absolutely no reason for any of us to feel awkward going forwards,” she tells him, hoping that it’ll sink in enough that they _can_ move forwards unaffected. “And if I ever end up in a similar situation, I hope you’ll assist me likewise?” she finishes, escorting him carefully out of the door but keeping the plateful of cheese and crackers. Hey, they were a gift, it’d be rude not to!

He’s still looking at her wide eyed before quickly ‘reassuring’ her a little too loudly that yes, yes, of course he’d assist and that he’s honoured she’s asked him and did she really mean that it was ‘amazing sex’ and - she shuts the door behind him and settles in for the next likely visitor.

 

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It’s a couple of hours before Ward arrives and she’s dozing until she hears the single sharp knock upon the cabin door.

He doesn’t bring any gifts or snacks and even though rationally she knows that there’s no reason for him to do so, she’s almost unreasonably annoyed that he hasn’t!

He’s incredibly awkwardly professionally distant. 

 

He explains almost verbatim the briefing they’ve all just received from Coulson - as though she’s not heard the lecture far more times than he will have given his comparably fewer years in Shield.

He’s annoyingly condescending as he ‘reassures’ her that she still has his absolute respect as a fellow specialist, that this will change nothing between them going forwards. It didn’t even enter her mind that it would. That it entered his own mind that it might is a point off him in her book.

 

He offers to let her hit him again. Repeatedly.

Like she’d need him to let her. She was winning their fight until Coulson shot her. If she wants to hit him, she’s hitting him.

She’s getting much closer to wanting to hit him the more his mouth keeps opening and stupid things keep coming out!

 

She’d already decided to break up with him about half way through her second orgasm with Phil’s cock shoved so far into her she could barely think. By the third she was certain that it was the right idea. 

“Then I think we’re done here,” is what she says and he leaves without a fight. It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway.

Her mind is made up - things end with Ward.

 

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Coulson is the last to drift across to her cockpit. He doesn’t knock, he assumes he’s welcome.

He wanders in, straight up to her unabashed and folds his arms across the back of her chair completely at ease.

He’s not here to apologise (he knows apologies aren’t necessary).

He’s not here because he wants to reassure her that what happens will stay secret (they each know the other will never tell. They also know that nothing ever stays a secret from everybody).

He’s not even here to awkwardly check if she’s alright with everything that happened (she is. It’s happened before to many different Shield teams in many different ways and to her... and to him... and to her and him. Sex whilst under the influence is nothing new to Shield. It’s nothing more than helping out a team mate). 

He’s not here for any of that. 

He’s just here. 

 

She turns her head to roll her eyes at him fidgeting as he tries to stay silent. It makes her smile despite herself. He always seems to be able to make her smile.

“So...” he stalls. 

She waits. 

“So... it seems like I have a vague recollection of shooting you with an icer...” he starts as though confused by such a recollection. It’s a faked confusion. He just knows what’s coming.

She says nothing, turning her head back to the view screen and fiddling with a couple of dials that really make no difference to their flight path but emphasise her ignoring him.

“You know I was under the influence of Asgardian mind control,” he tries. It’s not a good enough excuse.

She maintains her silence.

“I don’t suppose that I can assume from you silence on the issue that we’re classing that as part of the sex-pollen intentionally forgotten thing?” he hedges hopefully. She almost snorts. Oh, there is no way! 

But then... it’s hard to stay pissed at him when he’s giving her that tentative little please-don’t-kill-me-I-come-in-peace smile.

She lets the silence grow between them. It’s only uncomfortable for one of them. Okay, so it’s only mentally uncomfortable for him. She still physically aches in more than one place, but it’s the good kind of ache. The kind of ache that reminds her of the truly awe inspiring sex marathon she’s just been lucky enough to end up in the middle of.

“You know I was shot too...” he tries. Yes, he was shot too. He was shot by Fitz, not by her, and from how she understands it he probably had that coming having knocked Fitz out with a sucker punch earlier in the day. Fitz and him are probably even. Phil and her most definitely are not!

“Do I just wait for the revenge you’re savouring then?” he asks tentatively when the silence has stretched on too long for him to remain silent any longer. It was probably only a few minutes, he’s never had any patience.

She waits him out again.

 

“I don’t suppose it would be appropriate to offer to kiss it better?”

 

 

 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks! Hope u enjoyed it - am guessing if u bothered to read to the epilogue then you either did or you just enjoy torturing yourself. Please do leave me a comment or kudos and tell me - I love comments n kudos!
> 
>  
> 
> My beta devilgrrl is in the process of writing a sequel where May gets her revenge on Coulson and his damned tie that is "awesome" that you lot should definitely go check out...


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